From Boston to New York
by Idir
Summary: Boston, leader of the South Boston newsies, moved to the 5 Points to find stability and unity. But when sects of newsies begin to break out in different Manhattan territories she must decide where her alliance and her heart will lie as chaos breaks out
1. Old Friends

Before I start the story off, I'm just going to add in this little disclaimer as everyone else does. I don't own any of the characters from "Newsies". Boston, Josie, Connick, the O'Reilly, Dell and Bowie are of my own creation though. However I did take a bit of inspiration from such films and books as "Gangs of New York" and "The Five Points" by Broco Dormarunno  
  
Chapter 1: Old Friends  
  
Jack Kelly walked down Orange Street with his hands in his pockets and his eyes shifting from place to place rapidly. He was fully aware of the type of neighborhood he was venturing in. He hadn't been there in years. The 5 Points had remained completely secluded in his mind. A place nick named "hells kitchen" just wasn't a place that he wanted to frequent.  
  
He glanced around at the run down alleys and corroded tenements. The grime and decay was unimaginable. He hadn't seen anything like it in his life. He could practically feel the dirt seeping into his pores. A door opened to the right of him, letting out a shrilling scream and exhausting a terrible smell of human waist and rotten food.  
  
"What you looking at boy?" The man who had opened the door grunted through teeth that were black with rot.  
  
"Nothing," Jack shrugged and continued to walk. He hated the Bowery. But the 5 Points had to be the worst out of all the neighborhoods in it.  
  
When he reached the end of Orange Street a large court, known as Paradise Square, stood before him. It was the epicenter of the neighborhood, the actual 5 Points. The Five Points was so-called because it was centered at the five-cornered intersection of three streets- Orange, Cross, and Anthony.  
  
Paradise Square was packed with people. There were peddlers attempting to sell goods while children in rags ran around their feet. People were sprawled out all over, some sitting against old walls, others face down passed out in the street. There was yelling in the distance. A man with a fiddle tried to play a slow melodic Irish tone over the noise with an empty top hat at his feet for collection as a wild pig dashed past him. This was far worse then Jack had remembered. He had pushed the horror of the Points out of his mind.  
  
Under a stairwell that led up to one of the tenements, Jack spotted a person bent over a stack of papers. Walking closer he began to recognize the figure.  
  
"Well if it isn't Boston Collins," he said.  
  
The figure stood up straight and turned towards him. "Jack Kelly," she said fully composed before jumping on him and hugging him.  
  
"I heard you were down in these parts. I came down looking for you," Jack said releasing her from his arms. "Let me get a look at you."  
  
He stood back and gazed at her. Her clothes were ragged. Her pants hung loosely on her thin hips with suspenders hanging down her legs. She had on a green buttoned up shirt with its sleeves rolled up and a discolored undershirt unbuttoned underneath.  
  
"Well, you've grown." He said finally.  
  
"I should hope so. What's it been now, 7 years since I last saw you?" She shuffled her short choppy brown hair.  
  
"Probably. God, it seems like ages."  
  
"You were the one who stopped coming up to Boston."  
  
"You could've come down here just as easily."  
  
"Nah, all the walking hurts me feet," she smirked.  
  
"You haven't put any meat on your bones I see." He pointed out her weight. She was amazingly skinny, too skinny almost, a trait that came from years of malnutrition.  
  
"I'm watching my figure," she said in a sarcastic tone.  
  
"You're not eating," he replied.  
  
"Not by choice Jack. The business isn't doing so well up in Boston. It's hard to make a living at all and get a roof over my head, let alone eat enough to fatten up. Food is a luxury Jack. A luxury that I don't often have."  
  
They stood, starring at each other for a moment in awe. "So how you been Boston? What you doing here? You still leading the newsies up in South Boston?"  
  
"Yeah, as faar as I know. I dunno, I guess I just needed a change of seen. You know? Had to get out of Boston and into another city." She spoke with a hard accent.  
  
"So you come back here? To the Points? You have all of New York to pick from and you pick the 5 Points?" He looked at her questionably.  
  
"It's as good a place as any," she shrugged.  
  
"Why don't you come back up with me? You can lodge at Kloppmans."  
  
"Nah, I'm doin alright here," she said kneeling back down to her papers to untie the rope that held them together. "It's easier to sell here. There's not so many of us hawking the headlines in the Bowery."  
  
"There's a reason for that, you know Boston?" He said leaning up against the wall.  
  
She lifted the papers to her shoulders. "Don't worry about me, Jacky boy. If there's anything I learned on the streets in Southy, it's how to take care of myself."  
  
"But still. . ." Jack tried to protest.  
  
"Besides, I got people looking out for me here." She started to walk.  
  
"Yeah? Who?" He tried to keep up with her.  
  
"Josie's with me."  
  
"How is that brother of yours?"  
  
"He's holding up pretty well I guess. He really took it hard when our Da died. He still hasn't ever really gotten over it. I keep telling him, look it was 5 years ago, you gotta move on. But he just won't listen. You'd never guess that I was the younger one. She raised a paper over her head and yelled out a headline. "Connick's looking after me as well," she said.  
  
"Connick? The leader of the Points?""  
  
Boston nodded. "I'm staying with him in this old factory that he set up for newsies and sweatshop kids."  
  
"I don't trust him. There's just something about him that I don't like."  
  
"He's a good name to be associated with in these parts. His reputation is a lot worse than he actually is."  
  
Jack just nodded again. "Come up with me. Just for a couple of hours. Come see the fellas. They'd be happy to see ya."  
  
She stopped walking and looked at him. "I wish I could Cowboy, but I've got things to do. Papers to sell."  
  
"Sell 'em in upper Manhattan."  
  
"Jack, you're invading me personal selling habits here," she smirked.  
  
"Alright. Alright. I get the picture. But I got an offer there's no way in hell that Boston Collins would refuse?"  
  
She picked up her eyebrow questioningly. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"  
  
"Poker game. At the lodging house tonight. I can guarantee some high betters. Come on, what do ya say?" He knelt his head down so that he could look up into her eyes.  
  
"Alright. I'll be there."  
  
"You know where it is?"  
  
"Connick will show me."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"See there's a certain edict you've got to know in the Points." A tall brawny boy with a hard New York accent and wildly wavy dark hair stood directly in front of Boston leaning on a freight box while flipping through the afternoon edition of the Sun.  
  
"Yeah? And what's that Connick?" Boston sat on top of another cargo box, her feet folded underneath her while she whittled a peace of wood with a knife.  
  
"There's five points to the Five Points. And since you're knew to the area, it's my duty as the leader of these here points, that is the newsie leader of these here points, to give ya a word to the wise." He looked up from his paper momentarily to see if she was paying attention to him.  
  
She made a gesture with her hand to proceed.  
  
"Point one: Never steal a mans food, whiskey or woman. You shouldn't have a problem wit that last one but seeing as you might I thought it was good to at least point out."  
  
Boston stifled a laugh.  
  
"Don't laugh, my little Boston girl. This is very serious." His voice was stern but his eyes and smile said differently.  
  
"Point two: If you accept money to do a job, you do it. End of story. Point three: If you join a gang stay loyal to that gang. But I don't suggest that you do. The gangs in these parts are unusually rough. You've got the Dead Rabbits, the Pick-Pockets, the Bowery Boys, the Plug Uglies, you name it, there's a gang for it. Gangs are no place for a girl though."  
  
"But factories made into tenements for working class boys are?" Boston raised her eyebrows at him.  
  
He put his hand out in a compromising motion. "Point taken. Point four: If a copper wants information, you don't know any thing. We've all gots pasts here and they all stay in the past as far as the cops are concerned. And finally point 5: If for some reason ya think you're big and powerful enough, you can try to forget points one to four. But I wouldn't recommend it. If ya can remember that you'll be just fine kid."  
  
Boston smiled brightly at him. "Thanks Connick."  
  
"No problem." He looked back at his paper. "Just think of me as your advisor. You need to know something, I'm your man."  
  
"I'll remember that," she nodded glancing back down at her woodwork. "Hey Connick."  
  
"Hmm?" His eyes remained focused on the paper before him.  
  
"Do you know where Klopman's Newsboy Lodging House is?"  
  
"Jack Kelly's house?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Why you wanna go there?" He looked up into her blue eyes.  
  
"There's a poker game going on there tonight. We should go."  
  
"We?" He looked at her doubtingly.  
  
"Yeah. What's the matter you don't like poker."  
  
"I am the poker champion." He placed his hand on his chest in a mock fashion. "It's just that we Points newsies, don't usually associate with the upper Manhattan boys." He went back to his paper.  
  
They sat silent for a moment until he looked up at her. She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Alright," he consented after a moment of silence. "I'll take you up there. But only 'cause you're a visitor and a fellow leader. Don't let it get out that I'm a push over when it comes to girls."  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
"So this is it, huh?" Boston peered up at the large sign that said Newsboy Lodging House.  
  
"Yup. This is the place." Connick squinted his eyes at the sign. "It's no factory but it serves for lodging, I guess."  
  
"Are you always conceited?" Boston turned her head towards him.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about kid." He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes while keeping his head faced towards the sign. "Why'd you wanna come here anyways? You know Kelly or something?"  
  
"Yeah. We're old friends. He used to come up to South Boston sometimes and visit."  
  
"Mmm. That Kelly's a regular sweet heart, ain't he?"  
  
Boston walked up the cement steps that lead to the entrance. "You coming or what?"  
  
"Nah, I think I'll be heading back to the Points. Check up on the boys."  
  
"Come on," she said jumping down the stairs and pulling his arm. "What's the harm in a game of Poker?" She pleaded with him again with her eyes.  
  
"You're gonna get me in trouble one day aren't you?" He relented, trudging up the stairs. "It's those damn eyes. I'm gonna gauge them out when you're asleep one day and then sell 'em on Mulberry Bend."  
  
"Can you leave me one? I need to read the headlines," she smiled.  
  
"What for? The headlines are shite anyway. We make 'em up most of the time."  
  
A gush of hot air hit the pair as soon as the door was opened. It was the type of hot air that came from warm bodies not fires. An old man stood at the front desk leaning over a book. "It's 5 cents a night," he said removing a cork pipe from his mouth.  
  
"We're not here to stay," Boston explained. "Jack Kelly invited us for a poker game."  
  
"Poker. Right, right," the old man grumbled. "Upstairs."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
You could hear the excited voices from the stairwell. "Anti up boys." A male voice called. The sound of coins hitting wood echoed down the hall. Sprawled across the main bunkroom were groups of boys sitting in circles either on the floor or at makeshift tables.  
  
Boston found Jack in the back corner at one of the improvised counters.  
  
"I'm glad you came," Jack said standing up as he noticed her. "I didn't think you'd bother."  
  
"Of coarse I came Jacky Boy. I told you I would. I never go back on my word."  
  
"Hey Connick," Jack nodded in acknowledgment. The room seemed to come to a hush.  
  
"Kelly," he nodded back with hard eyes. All signs of kindness seemed to vanish from his face.  
  
"Didn't expect you to come," Jack spat in his hand and offered it to the fellow leader.  
  
"Neither did I," Connick spat in his hand in return and the two shook. The noise started up again as if everyone had let out a huge breath.  
  
"Come sit down," Jack clapped Boston on the back. "We saved a seat for ya."  
  
"We're playing five card," Jack explained as Boston sat beside him. Connick seemed to hover in the background. He pulled a chair away from the table and leaned it up against the wall. "You playing Connick?" Jack asked eyeing him up carefully.  
  
"No. Just escorting tonight. The kid didn't know where this place was." Connick leaned back in his chair and eyed the game warily.  
  
"Alright," Jack shook him off. "Boston, you know Racetrack," he said motioning to the newsie that sat across from him. Racetrack nodded in return. "That's' Mush, Kid Blink, Davey and of course you know Crutchy."  
  
"Hiya Boston," Crutchy said eagerly. "How's things been going up in Massachusetts?"  
  
"Not bad Crutch. Though I must say, we miss seeing ya up there."  
  
"I ain't been walking so good. Or else I woulda been up there visiting just like I used to wit Jack."  
  
Connick stifled a laugh from the corner. Boston looked at him quickly with a face of warning. He was picking at his nails with a pocketknife.  
  
"I know Crutchy," she said patting him on the shoulder and picked up her cards.  
  
After many hands Boston stood up from the table. "I'm gonna get some air," she said. She walked towards the window, opened it and stepped outside onto the fire escape. Connick stood up to follow her but Jack was already at the window.  
  
"What's with the grim reaper in there?" Jack leaned up against the iron fire escape beside Boston.  
  
"I dunno," she shook her head. "He's being an ass."  
  
"He's being Connick," Jack corrected.  
  
"No. He's not normally like that," Boston leaned forward on the fire escape staring down below towards the street.  
  
"That's how he's always acted to me Lorna."  
  
Boston froze at the sound of her real name. A slight smile appeared on her face. "I haven't heard that name since me Da's death." She gazed up at him. "It brings back memories."  
  
"He was a great guy."  
  
"Yeah. He was." A smile crossed her lips. "But that life's over now Jack." She said standing up straight. "You're the only one who knows that name besides for Josie. I'd like it if you kept it that way."  
  
He crossed his heart as a child does. "Your secret's safe with me."  
  
"Boston," Connick shot his head through the window. "I'm leaving."  
  
"Hold on, I'll go with you in a second," she said to him. "I don't know my way back yet," she said turning to Jack. "I guess I'll be seeing you around then Cowboy. It was nice taking your boys' money." She put her leg through the windowsill. "Come down and get me the next time they feel like losing some cash." She slid through the windowsill and was gone.  
  
Jack turned back towards the city street.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
"What was that act in there?" Boston asked when they were out on the street.  
  
Feigning a tone of confusion, Connick replied, "What act?"  
  
"What act?" she mocked. "The tough guy act."  
  
"That's' how I am, girl. If you don't like it tough." Boston stopped in her tracks. He'd never spoken to her like that.  
  
"I'll show you tough,"she said running after him and jumping in his way, making fake jabs at his ribs.  
  
"You're gonna get hurt," he said straight-faced gazing straight ahead.  
  
"By you? Doubtful." She punched him playfully.  
  
He went to grab her but she ripped his cap off before he could and ran ahead.  
  
"Give me back my cap," he said dryly.  
  
"Who's the tough guy now?" She taunted.  
  
"Boston, the hat. Now."  
  
She lifted her eyebrows in a mocking fashion. "Is that an order?"  
  
"You bet your ass it is."  
  
"Come on then. I could take you."  
  
"I could break you Boston," Connick said confidently before going to grab for the hat. She turned as he lunged for it and elbowed him directly in the eye.  
  
"Ah, my fucking eye!" He fell over onto the cobblestone.  
  
"Oh my God. Connick! I am so sorry." She leaned down beside him. "I didn't mean to."  
  
"Damn it!" He held his eye with is hands.  
  
Boston tried to pry them away. "Let me see it."  
  
"No."  
  
"Don't be such a baby. Let me see it." She tugged on his arms.  
  
"Agh! I think you broke my eye socket! It kills!" He whined.  
  
"Stop over reacting. I'm sure it's fine."  
  
"No, it's not."  
  
Boston stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, real tough leader you look like, crying over an elbow to the eye on the ground in the middle of Manhattan."  
  
He stopped whining and loosened his grip a bit. She kneeled back down beside him. "Come on Connick, just let me see. Please."  
  
He relented and pulled his hand away.  
  
She pressed her fingers lightly around his eye socket. His emerald green eyes closed in protest. "I don't think any thing's broken. I think you'll have a nasty black eye. But you'll be okay."  
  
He sat up slowly as the blood rushed to his head. "Great," he said.  
  
"I'm really sorry Connick. It was an accident. You can have your hat back." She handed it to him.  
  
"What am I supposed to say? That I got clobbered by a girl?"  
  
She laughed practically in his face.  
  
"It's not funny."  
  
"Is that what you're worried about?" She looked at him sympathetically while brushing away the dark wavy hair from his already bruising eye. "Tell who ever asks that you stopped a pick pocket from robbing me and got punched in the process."  
  
He placed his feet under him and stood. "Fine." He began to walk, leaving Boston still kneeling on the cold cobblestones.  
  
She stood and ran after him. "Are you mad at me?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Are we okay then?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Are you gonna answer anything in more than one word?  
  
"You have the bonniest elbows in the world." 


	2. Selling and Explanations

Chapter 2: Selling and Explanations  
  
Boston awoke the next morning to the sound of screaming in the street.  
  
"Get the hell away from my door you stupid whore!" A woman yelled. Peering through the window Boston saw a woman yelling down from a second story tenement window at a prostitute down by her doorway.  
  
"There's no need for you in this house," the woman continued.  
  
"Are you sure? Maybe your husband would beg to differ?" the prostitute yelled back.  
  
"If you won't leave I'll make you." The woman in the window disappeared only to come back with a hand full of rotting food. She flung the food at the woman in the streets.  
  
"Only in the Points," Boston said to herself.  
  
Boston's room was one of the only rooms with a window. She shared it with her brother, Josie. Connick had allowed the two to have their own room since they were such prominent figures in Boston and Boston was a girl.  
  
"So I hear Connick saved yer life last night, huh?" Josie came into the room and sat on his bed.  
  
"Mmm."  
  
Josie just smiled at his sister. "He didn't save you did he?"  
  
"Far from it. I elbowed him in the eye by accident."  
  
"Figures," Josie said, taking a bite in to an apple. He tossed one to Boston.  
  
"Thanks," she said putting it down on her bed.  
  
"Eat it."  
  
"I will."  
  
Josie rolled his eyes at her.  
  
"Don't give me that look Josiah."  
  
Josie just starred at her.  
  
"Fine." She picked up the apple and took a large bite of it.  
  
"You gonna sell today or just sit around all day?" He stood and walked to the door.  
  
"Yeah. I'll be up in a minute." Boston watched him walk out before standing up and pulling a small tin box out from under her bed. She removed the lid and gazed at a small weathered picture of her father. She brushed her fingers lightly across his face before putting the tin lid back on and sliding the box back under the bed. "Another day," she said standing up and walking towards the door.  
  
"You shoulda seen this guy. He was like 6 foot two and 200 pounds, at least." Connick sat on an old chair in the "common room" of the factory, surrounded by newsies. "But I wasn't gonna let him hurt Boston. So I stood up to him and beat the living shit outta him. He had brass knuckles but he was no match at all. In two minutes he was down on the cobblestone crying."  
  
Boston laughed to herself.  
  
"Tell the boys how I saved your life Boston," Connick said noticing her.  
  
"Connick saved my life." She took a bite out of the apple.  
  
"Tell 'em what the guy looked like."  
  
"I dunno. I couldn't really see him. It was like he wasn't even there at all."  
  
Connick looked at her with almost pleading eyes.  
  
"It all happened so fast." She continued. "Before I could even get a grasp of what he looked liked, he was own on the floor knocked out."  
  
Connick nodded without modesty.  
  
"Wow, that's some black eye though that he gave you, Con," one newsie said standing to get a better look at it. It was a dark blackish blue and slightly swollen.  
  
"Yeah it is. Now sit down Dell." Dell sat down as ordered.  
  
"I'm off to sell," Boston stated before walking down the hall of the huge factory and out the door.  
  
The wind hit her skin hard, sending chills up and down her spine. It was the end of autumn. She could smell it in the air. It would be winter soon. Boston hated winter, all newsies or street urchins or "Arabs" as they were called in the city, hated winter. With no warm clothes or sometimes even no shoes, winter proved to be long and torturous. At least she had a roof over her head. Her mind drifted back to the first winter after her father had died. She was 11 then and had spent the entire winter on the streets with Josie, sleeping in stairwells or doorframes to try to keep warm. The winters in Massachusetts were almost unbearably cold, especially on the streets. She was surprised that they had survived at all. But they did. Shaking her head as if to knock out the memories, Boston picked up her pace to The Sun's distribution center.  
  
Out of all the papers to sell for in New York City, Boston had chosen The Sun. She had no criteria really when it came to picking a paper to sell. All that mattered was one: Pultitzer didn't run it and two: Hearst didn't run it. She bought 100 papers, not stopping to talk to any one but the distributor and went off to work. She wasn't particularly fond of selling newspapers, but it was a living and she had no other option. She refused to be clogged up in a stifling sweatshop for 14 hours a day and little pay. At least as a newsie she could be outside in the fresh air. Plus, Boston was exceptionally good at selling the daily headlines. She didn't fabricate the truth as much as others. She didn't need to. Her stick was her sex. She was a girl and customers always felt bad for girls.  
  
She walked around the Bowery for hours that day, selling papers and watching people. She liked to do that. She'd observe people walking about and create stories in her mind about their lives and what they did at home. She noticed a boy walk by with a brown patch covering one of his eyes.  
  
"Hey, Blink!"she called to the boy that Jack had introduced to her the previous day at the poker game. He stopped and looked at her confused for a moment.  
  
"Boston, remember?" she said when she finally caught up to him.  
  
"Oh yeah, yeah. Right. How's it rolling Boston?" he smiled acknowledging.  
  
"All right I guess."  
  
"So you're selling for The Sun, huh?" he motioned to the stack of papers still in her hand left over from the days work.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I used to know a guy who worked there. He was a reporter. Brian Denton. You ever heard of him?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"He was a good guy. He helped us out when we had that strike a while back."  
  
"Yeah I heard about that."  
  
"Really? News traveled all the way to Boston?" He seemed astonished.  
  
"Yeah. You guys made good headlines. Besides, it's not that far."  
  
"I've never been out of the city besides for the Burroughs. I wouldn't know," he looked down at his feet embarrassed.  
  
"Well you're not missing much. It's better here in New York. Why do you think I came down here? We got treated like shit in Boston. A newsie couldn't make a living. It's worse up there then it was down here during you're strike."  
  
"So why didn't ya strike yourselves?" He furrowed his brow in and incredulous manner.  
  
"Because it's not like it is here. It's not unified. We don't stick together. I'd get my boys in Southy all together and ready to fight and the North Boston newsies would back out," she tried to explain.  
  
"It's not unified here any more. After the strike things fell apart," he said glumly. "All these little sects started forming. It used to be that all of Manhattan was united. You could sell your papes any where in the city with no limits." He took his brown cap off, scratched his head and put it back on. "The Boroughs were always separate but Manhattan was unified. Now we've got Midtown newsies and Bowery newsies, Upper East side. . ." His voice trailed off.  
  
Boston squinted in the sun. "How'd that happen?"  
  
"I dunno. Bunch of guys rose up and took over their neighborhoods. Yer buddy Connick took over the Points just after the strike. He used to be just a local seller, now he's the god damned leader." He paused for a moment. "Listen, I'm going over to Tibby's. You wanna come?"  
  
"No. Thanks. I've got some more selling to do. I had a late start," she shook her head.  
  
"Alright. I'll see you around them."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
By the time Boston got back to her room, her head was pounding. She threw herself upon the bed and covered her eyes with her arm.  
  
"Late day?" A voice said from the doorway.  
  
"Thanks for knocking, Connick," she moaned.  
  
"It's my factory kid. I don't have to knock." He leaned up against the doorway, eating a loaf of bread.  
  
"It's the cities factory. You just found it."  
  
"And renovated it." His eyebrows went up as he said this, asking for her to try to protest.  
  
"Hey, Connick. Why does it always smell so bad around here?" She peeked at him from under her arm.  
  
"Oh, that's from ingenious planning." He took another bite of bread. "The city built the Points on an old dump," he said through a mouth filled with food. "That's' also why some of the buildings are crooked. They're sinking."  
  
"Great," she said bluntly. "And here I was thinking it was just the architecture."  
  
"It all adds to the charm of the 5 Points," he winked. "Here eat this." He tossed another loaf of bread at her. "I saved it for you. It's a few day old but it'll do." He turned and left the room. 


	3. A Meeting

Chapter 3: A Meeting  
  
"Josie. Get up." Boston tugged on her brother's shoulder.  
  
"What?" He opened his eyes groggily trying to adjust to the sun that was pouring through the window. "What is it?"  
  
"Jack's outside. He wants to see you."  
  
"What?" His eyes were still half closed. He combed his fingers through his messy brown hair.  
  
"Jack's here. He came down to see what we're up to. ' Said he wanted to see you." She sat beside him on his bed.  
  
"Mmm." Josie laid back down and turned over.  
  
"Get up." Boston pulled on his arm relentlessly.  
  
"Alright. Alright." He swung his legs over the side of the bed. "You know, I didn't wake you up this hostile."  
  
"I'll show you hostility if you don't get you lazy ass up," she said with her back to him already out the door.  
  
Josie put his shoes on. He had slept in his clothes. He always did. They were the only clothes he owned besides for a separate collared shirt. He grabbed his hat and shoved it into the back pocket of his brown worn pants. He glanced quickly in an old shattered mirror at his hair before deeming it a lost cause and walking out to greet his old friend.  
  
"Jack Kelly," he said from the top of the factory steps.  
  
"Josiah," Jack nodded.  
  
"How you been kid?" Josie practically jumped down the stairs and embraced him quickly with one arm.  
  
"Wondering when you'd get down here," Jack slapped his back. "You seem to be holding up pretty well."  
  
"Well enough,"Josie grinned from ear to ear, delighted to see his old friend again. "I'm planning on going up to midtown to sell today. For some reason Boston likes selling around here. I'd rather not. I'd rather not live here either if I had me own choice. But the girl's in charge. You wanna come?"  
  
Jack thought for a moment. "I dunno if that's such a good idea. You might get away with it since you're new here, but I won't."  
  
"Because of the sects?" Boston chimed in.  
  
"Yeah," Jack was surprised that she knew. "There's been certain territories draw up lately. Midtown isn't my territory. I'm not supposed to be in there."  
  
"Christ. It's like Boston all over again." Josie leaned in closer to Jack so that only he could hear. "Can I sell by you then?"  
  
Jack laughed. "You're afraid of yer sister?"  
  
"No. Just her views on the 5 Points," he said so that she could hear him.  
  
"Then go live with Jack if you love 'im so much." She punched his arm playfully. He went to go hit her back but she swerved from his reach.  
  
"Come up with me now. We'll spend the day selling and catching up." Jack put his arm around Josie's neck and led him away. "Come to dinner with us. Around 5:30 at Tibby's," He said turning back around to Boston before walking away.  
  
"Where the hell is Tibby's?" She thought to herself.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Hey, Mick," Boston called after a newsie who sat besides the fire in the factory. She had just returned from a day of selling. "You know where Tibby's is?"  
  
"Some place up town I think," he replied unsure. "I dunno though."  
  
"Do you know where Connick is then?"  
  
"I think he's up on the roof," he said turning his hands outward towards the fire to warm them up.  
  
"Thanks." Boston walked down the hall, past the makeshift rooms and up the unsteady metal stairwells that twisted and twined across the factory for supervisors to watch their workers from. The only thing these stairwells were used for now was passageway to the roof. She climbed another flight of stairs before opening a large metal door that read "ROOF" in big red letters. She quietly walked outside to find Connick alone by the edge of the roof staring down at all that was happening below.  
  
"Anything interesting?" She walked up beside him and peered down herself.  
  
"Isn't there always something interesting? It's like a play, only free."  
  
"Mmm." She turned her back towards the view and sat down on the brick ledge.  
  
"I saw you come in from selling." His eyes remained fixed on the outlook before him, taking everything in with the eyes of a hawk.  
  
"You stalking me now?" she joked, kicking at the floor.  
  
"No. Watching." His voice was serious and still. "No extra papes today. You never come home with extra's. What you throw 'em out or something? 'Cause we can use 'em for firewood. If you're gonna pay for it, at least use it. That's my motto."  
  
"Good motto. No. Actually I just usually don't have extras." She turned and glanced at him but he was still looking straight ahead. "It's easy to sell when you have my charm."  
  
He didn't even crack a smile. She could tell he was in a foul mood.  
  
"Say, where's Tibby's?"  
  
"Right across the street from the Lodging House." He turned to her finally. "You want me to take you there?"  
  
"No. I'll be fine. I can find it," she said trying to prohibit a replay of the previous day. He'd be even grumpier if he went today with the type of mood he was in.  
  
"Good." He turned back towards the city.  
  
She sat there silently for a moment, unsure of what to say. "You want me to bring you something back?" She leaned over trying to find his eyes.  
  
"No. I'm good." He seemed so distant. His body stood before her but it was as if his mind were miles away.  
  
She went to walk away but stopped and turned back towards him. "You okay Connick?"  
  
He didn't answer for a moment. No one had ever asked him that before in his life. No one cared about how others were doing in the Points. It just wasn't a priority. "Yeah," he smiled.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
By the time Boston got to Tibby's it was already 5:30.  
  
"You're late," Jack said standing up to great her as she walked in the door.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," She said unconcerned and walked over to his table taking in her surroundings. "I had to get directions from a person who wasn't too affable."  
  
"What the hell does affable mean?" Mush whispered to Kid Blink.  
  
"I think she meant to say laughable," he shrugged.  
  
"It means pleasant," Davey chimed in.  
  
"Ohh," the two said simultaneously nodding.  
  
Boston pulled up a chair beside Jack and sat between him and her brother. "How'd the selling go?" She asked.  
  
"Pretty good," Josie answered. "How was the Bowery today?"  
  
"The usual."  
  
"You sell in the Bowery?" A voice came from across the table. Boston glanced over to see who the voice belonged to it. It was a boy that she'd never seen before. He hadn't been at the poker game the previous night. He was skinny but had a fierce look on his face and a stern glint in his blue-green eyes.  
  
"Yeah," was all she answered.  
  
"Oh!" Jack jumped in. "Boston, this is Spot Conlon, the leader of Brooklyn. "Spot, this would be Boston Collins."  
  
"South Boston newsies?" Spot said doubtfully.  
  
"Yeah," she nodded.  
  
"I always thought Boston Collins was a guy."  
  
"Nope. Sorry to disappoint you." She spat in her hand and offered it to him. He looked at her for a moment, sizing her up with suspicion before returning the gesture hesitantly.  
  
He pulled away and leaned back in his chair. "So what are you doing here?" He crossed his arms across his chest.  
  
"Eating." She glanced at the menu up on a small chalkboard on the wall.  
  
Spot shot her a brutal look. "No, in New York."  
  
Boston turned back towards him. "I hadn't seen Jack here in faar too long so I decided to come down and visit."  
  
"So why are you in the Bowery and not up here with Jack?" He seemed very suspicious of her.  
  
She looked at him quizzically. "Why do you care?"  
  
"I don't think it's wise of you to mouth off," he warned.  
  
Seeing this as a good time to jump in Jack added, "Boston's actually staying in the 5 Points."  
  
"Yeah?" Spot was surprised again. "Rough neighborhood for a girl."  
  
"Rough neighborhood in general," Josie stepped in. "We're living at this old factory."  
  
"With Connick?" Spot inquired.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"How'd you manage that?"  
  
"What do ya mean?" Josie took a bite out of the sandwich that sat before him.  
  
"Connick doesn't take well to strangers. He only lets people who've lived in the Points all their life sell down there." Spot sat up straight interested in the pending answer.  
  
"I guess he just liked us," Boston smiled from across the table.  
  
Spot stifled a laugh. "Doubtful."  
  
She could tell already that it was going to be a long dinner. 


	4. Pain and the Past

Chapter 4: Pain and the Past  
  
For some reason Boston didn't feel like selling in the Bowery the following day. She bought her papers from the Sun distribution center and began walking up towards Midtown. It wasn't as cold as it had been the previous day. The sun shone brightly as if refusing to recede into the winter sun that clouds over the sky in a dustier shad of yellow light.  
  
As she walked she thought about the night before. Spot would defiantly prove to be an adversary. But she wasn't sure if that meant that she disliked him. Perhaps she would enjoy his challenge.  
  
As she got further into Midtown her mind drifted back to her life in Boston. No one had challenged her there except for those who actually owned the newspapers. Besides for them, she had absolute power. Here she was just an ordinary newsie.  
  
A large boy in his late teens stepped in front of her, disrupting her thoughts.  
  
"Goin somewhere girlie?" He stood towering over her with large muscles and a stiff jaw.  
  
She stepped back a step so that he wasn't in her face. "Nowhere that's any of your business." She went to go step around him but he blocked her way.  
  
"You wouldn't be going to sell in my territory, now would you?"  
  
She rolled her eyes at him and tried to walk again.  
  
"I can't allow you to pass." He pushed her back slightly.  
  
She punched him hard in the gut with her right fist, causing him to bend over. With her left, she hit across the jaw. Her father had taught her to fit as a little girl. It proved to be handy many times before. She went to step around him when another boy jumped in her way. He grabbed her arm and threw her against the brick wall. Her head hit the wall hard, hindering her from retaliating for a second. The boy, who was slightly shorter then the first, hit her across the face once. She kneed him hard in the stomach, forcing him forward into her fist. The larger boy launched at her, knocking her over onto the ground. He raised his arm and backhanded her hard across the face, his silver pinky ring hitting hard against her eyebrow. He stood up for a moment ready to leave before touching his bloody lip that Boston had given him. In anger he kicked her hard forcing his oversized boot into her stomach  
  
She sat in a fetal position for a while before wearily sitting herself up. She leaned her head up against the wall and for the first time she felt the sick warm stickiness of blood on the back of her head. She raised her arm and felt her hair with her hand. When she took it away, a dark red color stained it. Shit. She immediately thought, it was the only logical thing to think after all.  
  
She pulled herself off the ground and slowly perused the area for the two boys. They were nowhere to be seen. She began to walk in the direction back to the bowery. Her lip was busted open slightly and her eyebrow had a slash across it from the smaller boys strong backhand and that damn ring of his.  
  
She stared at the blood on her hand. She hadn't lost a fight in years. But then again, she had never been ganged up on by two boys. She felt a wave of shame sweep across her.  
  
"What the hell happened to you?" Mick said when she finally entered the factory a good 40 minutes later.  
  
"Midtown boys," she grunted, walking past him and into her room. It was early yet. Josie was still out selling. She sat her self upon her bed. Her head killed. She cradled it in her bloody hands trying to protect it from more harm.  
  
"What happened?" Connick came running in. She didn't think he'd even be home yet. "Mick said you were hurt." He looked at her. "Who did this to you?"  
  
"Some boys in Midtown."  
  
He vanished for a moment before returning with a damp rag. He sat down besides her. "You look like shit," he said gently wiping away the now dried blood from her lip.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
He sat back for a moment and shook his head. "Who the hell beats up a girl?"  
  
"I've been beaten up before."  
  
He tried to wash the blood from her eyebrow but she pulled back in pain.  
  
"At least we match now."  
  
He laughed slightly. "Yeah."  
  
"Guess I won't be going down to Midtown any more."  
  
"Where'd the blood come from on your hands?" He was more concerned with her health than her visiting Midtown.  
  
"The back of my head," she said rather mundanely.  
  
He maneuvered so that he could see where the blood was from. "Shit," he said. "How can you be so calm?"  
  
She shrugged.  
  
"God, Boston. They really pulled a number on you. How the hell did they do this?" He applied pressure to the back of her head. She took the rag out of his hands and held it herself.  
  
"I got pushed into a wall."  
  
He only looked at her with sympathetic eyes.  
  
"It could be worse," she said. His green eyes looked so sad. "What?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
She smiled at him faintly.  
  
They sat there silent for a moment.  
  
"Connick. Can I ask you something? Its' gonna break Point 4. Well actually it's more of an example that you used for point four, but . ."  
  
"Just ask," he cut her off.  
  
"How'd you become a newsie? I mean, how'd you get to living on your own?"  
  
"Oh, the past," he took a deep breath and looked at the door to make sure that it was shut. "My parents died in a fire when I was 12." He ruffled his wavy black hair. "I was out selling papers, trying to help support the family when it happened. I returned and everything was gone."  
  
"Have you lived here all your life?"  
  
"In the Points?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Yup."  
  
Boston nodded in understanding. "Do you miss them? Your parents?"  
  
Connick thought for a moment. "Like hell."  
  
Boston took the rag from her head and looked at the blood that was on it. "My mom died when I was six. Consumption. My sister died of consumption as well. She was only two. My da raised us all on his own. He'd work 14 hours a day in the factory just trying to put food on the table, but he always came home every night happy just to see us." She stopped and smiled in remembrance. Connick watched her wordlessly. " He hated working in the factory. He used to always try to get a union together to go against the long hours and the bad working conditions, but the other workers were always too afraid to commit to it. He died in a factory accident when I was 11. 'Got caught in one of the machines. It was so hot and dark in their that I guess he fell asleep or something."  
  
Connick was silent. "I've been thinking about him a lot lately." She stared down at the floor.  
  
"Why don't you get some sleep?" he said standing up from the bed. "It'll do you go."  
  
"You sound like me da."  
  
He smiled. "Get some rest kid." He went to walk out the door.  
  
"Connick."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What's your first name?"  
  
He took hold of the doorknob. "James."  
  
"James," she nodded. "It fits you."  
  
"Sleep. Now," he ordered. "And if you tell any one about what I've said in here, I'll beat you up myself." He turned and closed the door behind him. 


	5. Failed Strategies and Pianos

Chapter 5: Failed Strategies and Pianos  
  
When Boston awoke the next morning it was already past noon. She hadn't realized how late she had slept until she peered out the window at the afternoon sun. She stood up slowly, pain rushing to her head and memories of the previous night prevailing through out her body. On the old dresser that leaned against the wall was a note from Josie.  
  
"Stay in today and rest. Take the day off and feel better." It read.  
  
Boston put the note back down on the dresser and looked into the shattered mirror on the wall. It was the first time that she saw herself. She had to admit she didn't look at bad as she felt. She felt like complete hell. She only looked like part of hell.  
  
She sat back on her bed unsure of what to do. She stood after a moment and decided to sell any way. She had nothing else to do any way and she needed the money. She left her room and walked through the empty factory into the brisk air. She bought her usual hundred papers and set about to sell.  
  
But no one bought. In 4 hours only she had only sold 15 papers. "Shit!" She threw the remaining papers on the ground. "I've lost my fucking gimmick!" No one wanted to buy from her. They didn't pity her anymore for being a poor innocent girl forced to work. Now she appeared as if she was street rat who deserved everything that she got and cause trouble.  
  
Pissed off, she walked in the direction of Tibby's. She shoved her hands in her pockets and ambled along with her head down mumbling under her breath. She'd lost money today and would probably lose money every day until she recovered.  
  
She walked into Tibby's and let the door close behind her. Jack stood, surprised by the unexpected visit. "Boston," he said walking over to her. "Come on and sit down." He stopped abruptly before her.  
  
"What the hell happened to you?"  
  
"I got into a fight with some boys from Midtown."  
  
"Did you at least get 'em back?"  
  
"Some what. But as you can tell they won."  
  
He led her to his table and ordered her a drink. "No thanks, Cowboy," she argued. "I can't afford it today. I made absolutely no money today. People wouldn't buy from me. I lost my gimmick."  
  
"Ah you'll get it back. And until you do, it's on me." He patted her on the back reassuringly. "I was just about the leave. 'Gonna head over to Medda's. She's throwing a little party. Why don't you come?"  
  
She thought about it for a moment. Her head still hurt but she wouldn't let it ruin her day any more than it already had. "Alright."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
As expected, Irving hall was packed. Boston gazed around at the scene in front of her. There were newsies everywhere. Music blared as couples danced on the floor. In the corner there was a poker game surrounded by spectators. A dice game played out in another corner surrounded by even more spectators then the poker. Drinks and food were all around, and laughter was heard everywhere.  
  
Boston sat herself upon a stool, observing everything. She didn't know what to do, but all the noise hurt her head even more than before. She stood and wandered around, looking for familiar faces. Racetrack was at the poker table, gambling away all of the days profits. Kid Blink and Mush watched laughing.  
  
Her head was pounding. She had to get away from the noise. She found her way back stage where the noise was hushed and the light not as severe. In the corner she noticed an old wooden piano. She walked over to it and ran her fingers against the keys lightly. It was in dire need of a dusting and perhaps even a polishing. She pulled out the wobbly bench from underneath it and sat down on it. She hadn't touched a piano in so long. Seeing it before her, she longed to play it. She pressed down upon some of its' white keys and realized that it surprisingly was not out of tune. She wondered if they could hear the piano outside just beyond the curtain. But her desire to play far outweighed the possibility of others hearing. She began to play, slowly at first, just fiddling around, but then speeding up, launching into a piece by Mozart. 10 minutes had gone by before she stopped.  
  
"You're good." A figure snuck up behind her.  
  
"What?" She nearly jumped off of the bench.  
  
It was Spot.  
  
"You're playing," he nodded towards the piano. "It's good. Where'd you learn?"  
  
She looked down at the keys. "My dad."  
  
He nodded before sitting down next to her with his back to the keys. He took a cigarette out and lit it behind his hand with a match that he shook out.  
  
"You know how to play?"  
  
He laughed out loud, blowing smoke into the air as he did so. "No. Never had the desire to. Or the chance for that matter. I dunno about you but I've never seen pianos on street curbs or in orphanages. Maybe in Boston, but not in Brooklyn."  
  
"Yeah, but you couldn't have always been on the streets."  
  
He stared intently at the cigarette in his hands. "You'd be  
surprised."  
  
"My father used to say that the piano was God's gift to man. He was a  
  
disappointed pianist." She smiled at the memory of her father sitting beside the old wooden piano in their tiny tenement apartment every night, playing for hours.  
  
He glanced over at her quickly. "What happened to you?"  
  
"Fight."  
  
"With?"  
  
"Some boys from Midtown."  
  
"Who started it?"  
  
"I guess I did."  
  
Spot leaned back with a surprise look on his face.  
  
"I threw the first punch but they asked for it."  
  
"They're bastards down there anyway."  
  
Boston laughed slightly. "You can say that."  
  
They could hear laughter from outside, penetrating the curtains that separated them from the party.  
  
"How come you're not outside in the party?" She asked softly.  
  
"Not in a socializing mood. You?"  
  
"Headache. I'm not in the mood for a paarty anyway."  
  
"I've never heard any one talk like you." Spot took a long drag from his cigarette and inhaled it deeply, savoring every moment of it.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"The accent."  
  
"Have you ever met somebody from Massachusetts?"  
  
"Nope. Can't say I have."  
  
"Well then there you go."  
  
The sides of Spots mouth bent upwards in the form of a minor smile  
  
"Ah, he smiles. He is human after all."  
  
He stood up. "Sometimes." He turned on the back of his heal and was gone as swiftly and as softly as he had appeared. 


	6. A Rip

Chapter 6: A Rip  
  
"You wanna come sell with me today?" Josie stood over Boston. She was lying down on her bed with nothing to do. She didn't want to waste any more money attempting to sell. "Come on we'll get you out and about."  
  
"Yeah. Alright," she stood, slid her shoes on and followed him out of the factory.  
  
"Boston, why are we here?" Josie asked after he had bought his papers.  
  
"You know why Jo. There were too many memories in Boston."  
  
"No I mean the 5 Points?"  
  
She looked ahead, starring into nothing.  
  
"I mean, it's not exactly the nicest place to live."  
  
"I guess I thought we could hide from the past here. Everyone hides there. It's the only place I know of where it's almost as if you can lose your past, lose your identity." She looked at his face. It was solemn and serious.  
  
A man came over and bought a paper, disrupting them for a minute.  
  
"Why forget the past Lorna?" He had said her name intentionally as if to actually bring back the past.  
  
"Because I have to Jo,"she stopped talking for a moment and squinted at the sun. "Because it hurts."  
  
"It hurts me too but I don't wanna forget it. If we forget, then we forget Da."  
  
They were nearing Jacks' territory. "I know."  
  
He looked at her incredulously. "Is that what you want Lorna? You wanna forget Da?"  
  
She closed her eyes. "I wanna forget losing him. I wanna forget what they did to him Jo. They caused his death! Those rich aristocrats with their big mansions and fancy companies killed him! They didn't care Jo! They didn't care that workers were getting killed or maimed on the job. Da was just another statistic to them." She was practically screaming. She lowered her voice. "I wanna forget that Jo, not Da, just that."  
  
He didn't know what to say to that so he just nodded and put an arm around her. "Alright Lorn. Alright."  
  
She stepped back and gathered herself together as if nothing had happened. She looked into her brothers eyes. They were soft and reflected her own image in his blue pupils.  
  
"Wow. I really do look like shit." She said laughing.  
  
"No you don't. You look beautiful." Jack ran up behind her and swung an arm around her neck "You're just lucky I like you or else I'd have to beat you up as well for being in my territory."  
  
"Hey Jack." Boston managed to mumble from underneath his arm. He had her practically in a headlock.  
  
Josie stepped in as a father would. "Hey Jack ease up would ya? She's not even better yet." He tugged on Jacks arm.  
  
Jack released her. "I missed ya the other night at Medda's. Where'd ya run off to?"  
  
"I didn't stay long. I had a bad head ache."  
  
"You missed a great party kid."  
  
"I'm sure I did."  
  
"Party? Why the hell wasn't I invited?" Josie suddenly noticed.  
  
Jack and Boston just looked at each other. "Didn't know where you were," Jack finally said. "But anyway, it doesn't matter now. What matters is that there might be another little shindig out in Brooklyn tonight. Spot Conlon's place."  
  
"You guys sure throw parties a lot," said Josie.  
  
Jack pulled up his cowboy hat from around his neck and placed it on his head. He tipped its' black brim at Josie. "We gotta keep things interesting don't we?"  
  
A scuttle and shouting was heard on the street corner behind them. "Speaking of interesting. . .what have we here?" Jack turned and began walking towards the commotion. A bunch of his newsies were surrounding three boys and yelling. "What's goin on here?" Jack jumped in the circle and threw his arms up in an attempt to break up or at least halt the impending fight. No one said anything. "We'll some one's gotta speak."  
  
A flash of light reflected into Boston's eyes. She squinted and tried to find where it had come from. In the middle of the circle of newsies a small silver ring on someone's pinky was gleaming off sunlight. Fear gripped her body. She quickly found the boys face and recognized him - the boy who had beaten her just days before.  
  
"Its' Midtown Jack,"Blink said heatedly.  
  
"They're up in our territory," Mush chimed in irritably.  
  
Jack looked at them questionably with mad fierce eyes. "Whoa, whoa! What do ya mean our territory? We're not a part of that sect shit."  
  
"We are when it comes to them?" Blink nodded in the direction of the boys from Midtown.  
  
"No. What's the matter with you?" Jack said slapping Blink on the side of the head. "We start with them and we're starting with everyone."  
  
"So what?" A bunch of newsies answered sporadically.  
  
"So what? You wanna start something really big? 'Cause that's what this would lead to, a huge fight."  
  
The Midtown boys stood firm in the center of the newsies showing no fear. Boston watched them unsure of what to do. She wanted Jack to fold. She wanted to see them on the floor crying in pain. But she didn't want something drastic to spring from this quarrel.  
  
"You saw what they did to Boston," Blink's eyes were intense with passion.  
  
"Yeah, it would be like retribution Cowboy,"a voice came from the back of the pack.  
  
Jack turned to Boston, seeking for her say. But she was silent and stiff. She gulped deeply and gripped her hands into fists at her sides. He sought her eyes trying to find some sort of feeling or message, but all he found was fear.  
  
"Christ," he said softly in shock. "It was them." He turned back to the Midtown boys with a hatred that he had never felt before. "You son of a bitch." He charged at the boys, his fists in the air ready to strike. Boston saw his fist connect with one of the boys' chin before the mass of newsies enclosed around them. All she could see where bodies and movement. She heard yells but they were muffled out in her head. Suddenly she snapped back into reality.  
  
"No! Stop!" she screamed at the top of her longs. "Stop!" She tried to pull some of the newsies away. She tugged at them frantically. Blinks words echoed in her head. She couldn't let this happen. She couldn't let the union of Manhattan decease. "Stop! Just leave 'em alone already."  
  
An arm grabbed her. "Come on Boston," Josie said pulling her away. "Just let 'em be."  
  
"No, Jo. You don't understand." She threw herself forward trying to break away from his grip. " You don't understand. They can't do this. It's a declaration of war."  
  
"What are you talking about?" he tried to yell over all the noise.  
  
"They're breaking up Jo! Manhattan's falling apart! There's no more Newsie union. It's all sects! All sects that are feuding. That's why they hit me. That's why every one's talking territories."  
  
"What?" He looked at her incredulously.  
  
"The city is divided Jo! And this is like the shot that starts it all."  
  
"Wait. Starts what?"  
  
"A massive fight, a battle, a war, what ever you wanna call it!"  
  
Josie starred at her in confusion.  
  
"Its' not just about us and Midtown. There'll be allies. All of the city will get involved Jo. Every newsie. Now you gotta stop them!"  
  
But it was too late. There was nothing Josie could do. They fight had ended and the newsies were slowly dispersing. All that remained were the two bloody, almost lifeless, bodied off the Midtown Boys.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Boston threw herself upon her bed. She buried her face in the pillow and punched the mattress repeatedly. How could she have let this happen? She had stood idly by as the beginnings of a massive feud unfolded in front of her. Manhattan was about to experience a citywide fight unlike anything they had ever seen before. The fire had been started and nothing she could do would stop it. Every newsie in the city was going to choose a side and every single one would be affected. And all she had done was watch it all unfold.  
  
She sat up and leaned her back up against the wall, tucking her legs up underneath her. She looked like a small child sitting there curled up in her room shaking back and forth cradling her head in her hands.  
  
She had come to Manhattan for the unity that didn't exist in Boston. News of the Manhattan newsie strike and how they had all banded together had propelled her to leave her home in search of the union that had actually stuck together through thick and thin. She wanted that union more than anything else. She wanted that security that someone would always be watching her back ready to do anything to help her. She wanted that union that her father had worked so hard for but never received.  
  
A single tear of anger and frustration ran down her cheek. She wiped it away and stood up. She paced around her room, unsure of what to do, wringing her hands together. Out of the corner of her eye, her reflection peered at her in the mirror. She noticed her cuts and bruises. The same cuts and bruises that had smashed her dreams and desires. She slammed her fist into the reflective glass, shattering it into pieces. The noise of broken glass hitting the floor echoed down the hall, causing some lounging newsies to glance up. Josie heard the noise.  
  
"Boston?" he called down the hall from the common room. There was no answer. He stood and ambled towards his room.  
  
"Boston?" he said opening the door. She stood before the broken mirror looking down at her bleeding hand. "What happened?"  
  
"I broke the mirror," was her only response.  
  
"Yeah I can see that but why?"  
  
"I didn't like the reflection," she shrugged her shoulders and walked out towards the roof. She needed to be alone, seriously alone, alone in the free air overlooking the city. She opened the door to the roof, feeling the chilly air on her face. Breathing it in, she let out a sigh of relief as if she could finally breath again. She walked over to the edge of the roof and peered down. The city seemed so different when looking down at it. It was as if it was all surreal, like a movie playing out before her very eyes.  
  
"I thought you'd be in Brooklyn with the rest of the guys," a voice came from behind her. She jumped in surprise.  
  
"Shit Connick. I almost fell of the fucking roof because of you. What the hell are you doing sneaking up on people like that?"  
  
He just laughed.  
  
"I didn't think any one was up here."  
  
He walked towards the roofs end and stood beside her. "I'm up here most of the time." He put his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight from his toes to his heels. "The question is, why are you up here?"  
  
"Just thinking, or at least trying to."  
  
"Mmm."  
  
"Why aren't you at the party?"  
  
"Don't really hold too well with Conlon."  
  
"Do you hold well with any one?" She managed to smile.  
  
"Some. Some might even say I'm charming." He winked at her.  
  
She didn't respond at all. She just starred blankly into space.  
  
He inched closer to her. " What's wrong Boston?"  
  
"I dunno."  
  
"Come on. You can tell me."  
  
She let out a sigh and relented. "There was a fight today."  
  
"Yeah I know I heard."  
  
She looked at him, surprised that news of the fight had traveled so fast. "It was my fault, Connick. It started because of me."  
  
He nodded in understanding. "And now you think that if a feud turns out in the city, it'll be your fault."  
  
"It will be."  
  
He shook his head. "No it won't. It's been festering since before you got here." He picked a pebble up from the roof and threw it out into the city night. "Besides, people do things because they wanna. The fight occurred because the people who participated in it wanted it to occur. You were just an excuse."  
  
She didn't know whether to be offended by that or comforted.  
  
"Now stop thinking about it." He took her hand in his. She looked down at it for a moment confused at the gesture. "And come with me to the party in Brooklyn."  
  
"I thought you said you didn't hold well with Spot."  
  
"I can manage to get along with him if it'll get your mind off of that stupid fight."  
  
A smile sprung across her lips. "Why are you so nice to me?"  
  
"What do ya mean?"  
  
"I mean, really nice. You treat other people like shit sometimes. But you're always so good to me."  
  
He only smiled in return, his emerald eyes reflecting the rising moon. 


	7. On The Docks

So here's the update. I just wanted to thank everyone who took the time to review my story. This is the first fic that I've ever written and I'm really stoked that I'm getting good feedback. Pmochizuki, this chapter is where the romance starts to play in. Hope you like it.  
  
Chapter 7: On the Docks  
  
The Brooklyn piers were illuminated with candles and lanterns casting a yellow glow onto the aged brown wood. Music sprang out in the air from a motley band of tin whistles, hand drums and fiddles spreading an air of merriment through the crisp night.  
  
Boston had never seen anything like it. The pier seemed to tremble under the pressure of dancing bodies. There were newsboys all over surrounded by dates or fellow newsgirls. Boston noticed Josie dancing off to the side. He was with a red head who had curls straight down her back and a smile as wide as a door. Josie's smile emanated hers. Boston smiled herself watching them.  
  
"Wanna dance Connick?" Boston asked eager to join in on the fun herself.  
  
"Me? No. Not a big dancer," he said shaking his head almost violently.  
  
"You're telling me you never learned how to dance?" She laughed at him mockingly.  
  
"No I learned. I just don't do it."  
  
"Well, now's the time to start then." She grabbed his arm and tired to pull him towards her but he wasn't budging. "Come on just one dance." She attempted to push him from behind as well but his feet still didn't move an inch.  
  
"No." He stood firm. "I'll take you to parties and I'll help you out when you're beat up but I refuse to dance." He crossed his arms over his broad chest as if to prove his refusal.  
  
"Fine," Boston said lifting an eyebrow to him. "I'll find someone else to dance." She walked off in search of a partner. Connick watched her back as she went.  
  
"Jack!" she called waving him over from the crate he was sitting at. "Dance with me."  
  
"Can't Boston," he said still sitting. "I'm busy here." He was rolling dice with a few other newsies.  
  
"Argh! What do I have to dance with my own brother?" she called at him but he was already back at his game paying her no mind.  
  
"I'll dance with you."  
  
She turned around to see Spot's blue eyes starring down at her. She could feel his breath on her. It was the first time she'd seen his with out a hat on. His light brown hair fell slightly in his eyes. He'd cleaned up nicely. He was wearing a new, or at least newer blue shirt with it's sleeved rolled up to reveal his arms. She was speechless for a moment. She nodded dumbly.  
  
The music had slowed down, playing a soft leisurely melody. He took her hand in his and put his other hand on her waist. She fumbled awkwardly, unsure of where to put her other hand. Spot laughed at her slightly. Her face flushed with embarrassment.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said putting her hand to her face in an attempt to hide. "It's been years since I've danced."  
  
Spot smiled down at her. "No, no it's okay." His eyes sparkled in the candlelight. He lifted his shoulder a bit to let her know to place her hand there with out having to say it. Thankfully, Boston followed his insinuation but she was still embarrassed. Spot could tell.  
  
"You know, the first time I danced with this one girl when I was younger, I stepped on the hem of her dress and she fell over straight onto the floor." He said trying to make her feel better.  
  
Boston let out a small laugh. "Well we won't have that problem at least, now will we?" She glanced down at her pants.  
  
"No. I guess we won't."  
  
Boston felt embarrassed again. She shouldn't have mentioned the pants. It wasn't proper for girls to wear pants. Why had she called Spots attention to it? She felt her checks burn.  
  
"What's the matter?" He tried to find her eyes with his.  
  
"Nothing," she smiled falsely. "Why aren't you busy dancing with every girl here?" She teased him trying to change the subject off of her.  
  
"I dunno," he grimaced.  
  
"What's wrong, they're too perfect for you?" Boston smirked.  
  
"They're just all the same. Prissy and boring and high maintenance." He looked up at the sky for a second.  
  
"Yeah, you're gonna have a problem with that considering you described a girl." She smiled at him. Her blue eyes seemed to smile as well.  
  
He stared at her for a moment. She felt awkward under his gaze. "You're cuts and bruises are looking better," he finally said.  
  
Boston was embarrassed yet again. Why was she so embarrassed around him? She never cared about what people thought of her.  
  
"Yeah," she said sarcastically.  
  
"No, I'm serious." He pulled her closer so that she didn't ram into another couple. "You look nice."  
  
Boston almost stopped in her tracks. The only person who had ever said anything like that to her was her dad. The music ended and they parted slightly.  
  
"Spot!" Jack called from where he was still sitting. "Come 'er I need your advice."  
  
Spot hesitated for a moment.  
  
"You better go," Boston nodded towards Jack and the group of newsies surrounding him. "Don't wanna keep your fans waiting."  
  
"Yeah," he said softly before turning to walk away.  
  
"Spot," Boston called at his back. He turned to look at her. "Thanks for the dance."  
  
"Any time."  
  
Boston watched him go.  
  
"You happy now? You got your dance." Connick appeared at her side with a drink in his hand.  
  
"Well at least some one would dance with me."  
  
He slid his arm around her neck. "Come on. I got a poker game lined up for us. High betters. Can't miss."  
  
"You know what, I think I'm just gonna go for a walk," she said pulling away from him.  
  
"Alright. You want company?"  
  
"No. I just need to think about some stuff."  
  
He nodded. "Alright. If you want me you know where I'll be." He pointed to a makeshift table. "At that table right there, winning lots of money."  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
It was quiet along the piers away from the party. Boston sat down on an old crate and wrapped her arms around herself. The air had gotten colder as the night progressed. She wished she had a coat. She glanced up at the stars. The night was clear as could be. It was breathtaking. She watched the water as tiny little ripples reflected the bright stars, making them demented in their reflection.  
  
"Its' beautiful isn't it." Spot came up behind he with his hands in his coat pockets. She hadn't even heard him walking up the wooden pier.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He sat down beside her on the crate. "I come her a lot. Just to think, ya know? Clear my head. What're you thinking about?"  
  
"Nothing really." She shivered.  
  
"You cold?" Spot asked.  
  
"I'll be fine. It's like 20 degrees colder in Boston."  
  
Spot took his coat off and draped it across her shoulders. She tried to protest but he quieted her quickly. "Take it." His voice was stern but endearing.  
  
"Thanks," she said shyly looking at the floor.  
  
"You're so quite tonight," he commented as he ran his hands through his hair. "Why is that?"  
  
She shook her head. "I dunno. I just. . ."  
  
"Nothings your fault you know?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"What's going on in the city with all the newsies. It's not your fault."  
  
"Oh. It's not that."  
  
"Then what?" He moved closer to her so that their shoulders were almost touching.  
  
She didn't know what to say. What was she supposed to say after all? That she felt awkward and silly around him all of a sudden? That she didn't know what to say when he came near her? That he took her breath away?  
  
"I guess I just got a lot goin on in my mind,"she lied.  
  
"Mmm." He glanced out towards the stars. "You see that star over there? The little red one?" He pointed.  
  
"Next to the big yellow one?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah. That's Beetlejuice. It's the brightest star in the sky, that we can see any way. People think it's the North Star, but its' not. It's just that the North Star is closer."  
  
"How do you know that?" She looked at him surprised. He didn't seem like the type to know about astronomy.  
  
"What? You don't think I know about stars?" he joked.  
  
"No it's just that. . . well yeah."  
  
"My dad told me. Just like your dad taught you to play the piano. I guess fathers are good for some things."  
  
Boston looked down at her hands in remembrance of the feeling of ivory keys. A lock of hair fell in her face. Spot reached over and brushed it away gently. She turned to look at him. He put his hand on the side of her face gently and pulled her towards him even more gently before placing the most sincere kiss that he had ever given on her lips. "I'm sorry," he said when he pulled away.  
  
She just smiled at him before leaning forward and kissing him back softly.  
  
"I thought you'd be mad at me for doing that," Spot said when they're lips parted, his forehead still touching hers.  
  
"No." She smiled.  
  
"Good." He leaned in to kiss her again but was interrupted by yelling. "What the hell is that?"  
  
A fire was raging off on the pier where the party was.  
  
"What the hell?" Spot stood up. "Come on." He grabbed Boston's hand and ran towards the party. "What happened?" He said still gripping onto Boston's hand.  
  
"Midtown boys. Lit up a crate. Everyone's fine though." Jack said tossing some water onto the fire. It did little to help though. The fire still ragged. "Just trying to scar us."  
  
"But we're not in on this little feud you got going on Jacky-boy." Spot released Boston's hand and stepped towards Jack. "Brooklyn's neutral in this whole thing."  
  
"Well I guess they don't think you are."  
  
"Shit! I didn't want to get into this!" Spot cursed.  
  
"Why not?" Mush came up towards the fire and the conversation. "They beat up Boston."  
  
"So?" Spot didn't even realize when it came out of his mouth. He turned to look behind him at Boston.  
  
She had a hurt look on her face.  
  
"I didn't mean it like that. . ." he began to explain.  
  
"No its' fine. I know what you meant." She stepped back. "Jack, you got everything under control here?"  
  
"Yeah. We should be fine."  
  
"Alright. I'm goin home." She turned on her heel swiftly and walked off the pier.  
  
"Boston, wait! I'll walk you home." Spot ran to catch up with her.  
  
"I'm fine Spot. You've got a fire to attend to in you territory." She kept her face straight wondering where Connick had run off to.  
  
"I didn't mean it like that. Come on. You know I care that they hurt you."  
  
"I'm sure you do Spot."  
  
"Then why are you leaving?" He caught up to her.  
  
"Why not? The party's over. There's nothing to stay for."  
  
"How about me?"  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"Stay for me." He reached out to grab her had but she speed up to get away.  
  
"As tempting as that sounds. I think I'd rather go home and sleep." She didn't know why she was running away from him. She wasn't really mad at what he had said.  
  
"Boston. Come on. Just wait a second."  
  
"What?" She stopped walking so that he could say his piece.  
  
"We started something here. You can't just leave now." He looked at his feet unsure of himself.  
  
"Spot, we didn't start anything. It was just a kiss."  
  
Now he wore the hurt expression. "What do you mean just a kiss? I thought you liked me? Why are you running away?"  
  
"I'm not running. I'm walking." She was running though, figuratively anyway. She was scarred of him. She was afraid of falling for him. "Boston." He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. "Can't we just talk about this. I didn't mean to say that back there. I just didn't want to have all my boys get into a fight. It was about them not about me." He looked into her eyes pleadingly. "If I saw one of those guys that hurt you I'd knock their heads in. It kills me that they hurt you. I just don't want to involve more people then there has to be involved."  
  
"Spot, I don't care about what you said. I'm glad you don't wanna get involved. I don't want any one involved! I wish to God that I wasn't involved!" she spit out rather angrily.  
  
"Then why are you running from me?" he spit back.  
  
"I don't know!"  
  
He stepped closer. "Just give me a chance."  
  
"I'm afraid of you Spot."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"'Cause I like you. 'Cause I'm starting to care about you"  
  
"I care about you too."  
  
"But I can't care about you."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Cause everyone that I care for gets hurt." Her eyes started to glaze over. She looked down to hide her face. "My mom, my dad, my little sister. All I have is Josie."  
  
He stepped closer to her so that their foreheads were almost touching. "I'm not gonna get hurt Boston."  
  
"And every time I care for someone I get hurt. I can't hurt any more Spot."  
  
"I'm not gonna hurt you."  
  
A tear ran down her check. He brushed it away softly and tilted her head upwards. "I promise." He smiled. "I'm the fearless leader of Brooklyn."  
  
She laughed slightly. He smiled at her. She melted from that smile. He kissed her once quickly but engagingly. "Come on. I'll walk you home." He took her cold hand in his and turned towards the direction of the Five Points. 


	8. The O'Reilly

Once again thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'm glad that you guys generally liked the last chapter. Thanks for pointing out some of my typos JustDuck. I fixed the ones you pointed out and some others as well. There were a lot of typos in the last chapter, sorry about that. I must admit, as jsgirl2005 said, the romance in the last chapter did happen rather fast. I got a bit antsy and wanted to put it in there. But they're not soul mates, at least not in this story. They just like each other as of now.  
  
Chapter 8: The O'Reilly  
  
Boston awoke the next morning as the sun peered through her window. She wiped her eyes groggily and stretched. A smile came to her face as she thought of the night before. Had it really happened? Or had she dreamed it all up? She stood from her bed, tossed on a different shirt and walked out into the hall.  
  
"Morning Boston," Josie said from the couch. "You goin sellin today?"  
  
"I dunno," she said scratching the back of her head. "You think I should."  
  
"You gotta pay rent don't you?" Connick came from behind her hitting her on the back with a newspaper from the previous day. He sat down on the couch with one leg on the arm and chewed on a loaf of bread. "Good headlines yesterday, you missed it," he said as he flipped through the paper.  
  
"Where'd you run off to last night?" Boston sat on the couch beside her brother.  
  
"Home. After my many winnings I was exhausted and had to go home." He didn't look up from the paper. "I see you got home okay."  
  
"I know this city like the back of my hand already." Boston boasted.  
  
"Uh huh," Connick said rather doubtfully. "Well if you don't get out and start making some money you'll be living on the streets of this city that you know so well."  
  
"Alright," she said standing. "I'm going."  
  
She bought her usual papers and began selling, screaming out the headlines and collecting the pennies that were dropped into her hand by customers. Her business was back. Her bruises were healing.  
  
Around 3:00 she sat down on a bench and began counting out her profits so far. She was nearly done and had sold more than ¾ of her papers already. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a familiar face. She watched as the familiar boy walked past her, trying to place the face to a name. But no name came. She didn't know his name.  
  
"Hey!" She called at his back. "Hey, kid!" He turned to her. "You're from midtown aren't you?" It was one of the boys who had attacked her. She wasn't afraid of him now.  
  
" Yeah so?" The boy wore a dumb expression on his face. "What's it to you?" He didn't recognize her.  
  
She lifted her papers to show that she was a newsie as well.  
  
"The Points didn't choose sides yet. I can go as I please," he said turning around to walk away."  
  
"That's fine with me. That's not why I stopped you."  
  
He turned back around to face her.  
  
"What's your name?" she asked.  
  
"Bowie."  
  
"Bowie?"  
  
"As in the knife." He was trying to be intimidating. He pulled back his shirt and revealed a long knife.  
  
"Well, I'm Boston Collins."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Just thought an introduction was in need before I ask you a favor." She took off the hat that she had on and scuffed up her hair.  
  
"What favor?"  
  
"Your leader. What's his name?"  
  
"Of Midtown?"  
  
"Yeah." She was beginning to be annoyed with his lack of intelligence.  
  
"The O'Reilly."  
  
"The O'Reilly? What is that, some sort of title or something?"  
  
"It's a name."  
  
Not wanting to argue with him, Boston changed the subject. "You think I can met him?"  
  
He looked at her suspiciously. "The O'Reilly doesn't take well to visitors."  
  
"Look. Tell 'im that the leader of South Boston wants to meet 'im."  
  
"Who's the leader of South Boston?" He looked confused.  
  
"I am."  
  
He looked at her even more confused than before but now he had an air of skepticism. "I'll see what I can do."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Wait out here," Bowie said stopping before a massive steal door on the side of a building. He opened the door and walked in, closing it behind him and leaving Boston alone in the rundown alley. It was vacant besides for a rat that scampered by her feet.  
  
Sighing, she leaned against the blackened wall. She waited for whet seemed like an eternity before Bowie finally came out.  
  
"The O'Reilly will see you know." He announced proudly.  
  
What's with this guy? She thought. Who calls themselves "the" anything?  
  
Bowie held the steal door for her as she walked into a dark room. In the corner was a single light lit by kerosene on top of a battered wooden table.  
  
"So you're Boston Collins, huh?" The O'Reilly sat at the table with one foot upon it and a knife in his hand. He appeared to be carving into some sort of stick. He was old, or at least older than most of the newsies. He had to be at least 24.  
  
"Yeah." Boston spit in her hand and reached it out towards him. He ignored it.  
  
"Would've thought the leader of South Boston would be a boy." He continued carving into his stick. He spoke with an Irish accent that had been lessened from years in America. "South Boston's a rough neighborhood I hear."  
  
"It can be." Boston crossed her arms across her chest.  
  
"Bowie said he met ya in the Points? You sell there?"  
  
"Yeah. For now."  
  
" The Points. 'Nother rough neighborhood. We're waiting for them to sign up on our side. They're neutral so far." She knew he was referring to the feud. "I'm thinking of calling this thing the Periodical Conflict. What do ya think?"  
  
Boston thought it was cheesy as all hell.  
  
"Maybe not though." He looked at her, sizing her up. "So what do ya want?"  
  
"I wanted to ask you something." She pulled up the chair on the other side of the table and sat down.  
  
The O'Reilly gave a surprised look. "Did I say you could sit down?"  
  
"Did I ask?"  
  
A smirk appeared on his face. "Alright," he said, "what do you want to know?"  
  
"I'm here as a representative, for the Points that is. Who's on you side?"  
  
"We've got most of the bowery, aside from you so far. The Village is with us. The Bronx, SoHo, the lower east side and possibly China Town."  
  
Boston nodded. "So who's against you?"  
  
"Kelly's boys, the upper west side, upper east, Queens and Brooklyn."  
  
"I though Brooklyn was neutral."  
  
"There's no such thing as neutral." The O'Reilly slammed his stick to the floor, tapping the end against the wood. "They're either with us or against us. And as far as I'm concerned they're not with us."  
  
"Nice mentality," she meant it to be sarcastic but he took it as a compliment.  
  
"Of course."  
  
She looked at him, unsure of what else to ask him. "Let me ask you something," she finally said. "Why are you fighting?"  
  
He was silent for a moment as if unsure. "Some one needs to shut Kelly up. Some one needs to show him that he doesn't have all the power in this city. He's not the only leader." So its' over power. How idiotic! Boston thoght.  
  
"That and he beat up some of my boys the other day." He added.  
  
"Yeah but it was starting before that." Boston leaned forward in her chair.  
  
"True." The O'Reilly stood up.  
  
"How far are you gonna take this?" Boston stood up as well.  
  
"As far as I have to."  
  
"How far is that?"  
  
"Until Kelly has no power." The way he said it was threatening. "So you with us?"  
  
"I have to talk to Connick. I'm not the leader."  
  
"How is old Connick? Haven't seen him in years."  
  
"He's holding up."  
  
"Well, go see Connick. Come back when you find out or any time for that matter. "You're good in my book kid."  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
All this for power? Boston thought to herself as she walked back to the factory. If he wanted power that bad I would've given him Southy.  
  
She walked hunched over from the cold with her hands in her pockets trying to protect them from frostbite. It was getting cold quick. The winter would be a rough one.  
  
"Boston!" Spot called from behind her knocking her from her thoughts. "I was just coming to see you."  
  
"Hey Spot,"she said emotionlessly still thinking.  
  
He kissed her on the cheek quickly. "You're freezing," he said putting an arm around her shoulder. "We gotta get you some warmer clothes"  
  
"We gotta get me some money but that's' not happening either."  
  
"You wanna get something to eat? My treat."  
  
"You're treat?" Boston said in surprise.  
  
"Yeah," Spot said genuinely.  
  
"I haven't been treated to anything in years."  
  
"Well now's your chance. Where do you recommend?" They were closer to the Points than any other territory.  
  
"I dunno, I usually don't eat out. I don't know what's good."  
  
"I don't know either. I usually eat in Brooklyn."  
  
They looked at each other contemplating.  
  
"Tibby's it is then," Spot finally decided.  
  
They ate dinner with Jack and the usual crowd that dinned daily at their favorite restaurant. Boston ate little not wanting to take advantage of Spots generosity. She knew that he had just as little money as she did. He urged her to order something bigger than she did but she refused saying that she wasn't hungry. "Boston don't worry about the money," he had said seeing right through her obvious lie, "as long as you're with me I'm gonna pay for you." She wasn't sure if she liked that. Call it feminism if you like, but she never liked the fact that men always felt that they had to take care of women.  
  
"So where do we stand Spot?" Boston had said when they got outside after eating.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Relationship wise."  
  
"Oh." He had a look on his face as if he hadn't even given it a thought. "Where do you think we stand?"  
  
She breathed in a cold breath. "I dunno, that's why I asked you."  
  
"We don't have to call it anything but I was hoping that we could just say that you were my girl, ya know?"  
  
"Sure, why not?" She mocked as if not amused.  
  
"Thanks for caring so much." He kissed her softly while smiling. She could feel his grin on her lips.  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
She found Connick on the roof as usual, overlooking his territory. Of coarse it wasn't only his territory. The Five Points was home to countless gangs, some of the roughest in all of New York. But it was his territory as far as newspapers went.  
  
"Hey Connick," she said as she walked up behind him and stood beside him.  
  
"Oh hey Boston." He looked at her quickly before looking back out at the city. "Good day?"  
  
"Not bad. I'm actually selling now. Guess the face is looking better huh?"  
  
He looked at her. "Yeah. You wouldn't even know anything had happened to you."  
  
She starred down at the city with him. "It's so calm up here. You 'd never know what it was like down there in the streets."  
  
"Until you hear a blood curdling scream." Almost on cue, a woman's voice sounded sharply in the street. Connick lifted his finger to point it out.  
  
"I met a former friend of yours today?" Boston said changing the subject.  
  
"Is that right?" Connick turned around and sat beside Boston on the ledge. "Who?"  
  
"The O'Reilly."  
  
Connicks face picked up. "He's still around here?"  
  
"Yeah. Leads Midtown."  
  
"Is that so?" Connick laughed to himself. "How is the old O'Reilly?"  
  
"Alright I guess. I wouldn't know considering I have no prior experience with him."  
  
"Was he sulking and rude?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Connick nodded. "Then he's fine." Connick stood in excitement. "Damn! I haven't seen him in years."  
  
"How do you know him?" Boston wondered out loud.  
  
"He used to live down here in the Points. Came over from Ireland. Shit, he taught me everything I know. How to sell. How to fight. How to live on the streets. I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for the O'Reilly."  
  
"So where's he been all these years?"  
  
"Damned if I know. He just up and left one day. Now he's back, huh? In Midtown?"  
  
Boston nodded solemnly.  
  
"He still have his stick?" Connick could hardly contain his excitement.  
  
"The big black one with all the marks in it?"  
  
"That's the one. He brought it from Ireland. There's a name for it. I never could pronounce it, sha--- something or another. Did you see the marks in it?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"He makes a mark for every kill he gets."  
  
"What?" Boston was shocked and almost disgusted.  
  
"Yeah. Every time he kills some one he puts another mark in the old stick. God, I bet it's filled up by now."  
  
Boston looked as him incredulously. "And you're friends with him?"  
  
Connick looked at her defensively. "Hey, you don't know what it was like here then. It's improved more than you could ever imagine ever since Teddy Roosevelt came into office. You couldn't survive with out killing."  
  
"You did."  
  
"I was a kid. It was different. You don't know what you're talking about." He turned away from her and stared out towards the city again.  
  
"Don't act like I've never seen violence or anything bad Connick." She stood. "It was no picnic in Southy either."  
  
"I'm not saying it was."  
  
"Then what are you saying?" She moved towards him.  
  
"That you shouldn't judge him without knowing the circumstances. He took me off the streets. He saved me Boston."  
  
"You could've survived without him."  
  
"Oh could I have?" He stifled a laugh. "You didn't know me then."  
  
"But I know you now. And you're not like him." She stepped closer and touched his arm.  
  
"How do know you know me? Maybe you don't know anything about me at all." He turned towards her and raised his eyebrows.  
  
Boston stepped back. "He wants to know if you'll fight with him."  
  
Connick's face went blank.  
  
"He says he's willing to take this thing as far as it has to go."  
  
"That's not good."  
  
"I didn't think it was."  
  
Connick was silent. Boston waited a moment before sitting back down on the ledge. She watched Connick n the moonlight, his brow furrowed in thought. He set his gaze on the floor before saying, "I'm going to have to fight with him aren't I?"  
  
"You don't have to."  
  
"It's either with him or against him. That's' how he sees everything." He shook his head sadly. "I either fight with him or I have to fight him." He sat down on the ledged and put his head in his hands. "And I either choose him or you right?"  
  
"No." Boston slid down the ledged next to him.  
  
"Well if I fight with him then I'm fighting against you."  
  
"It doesn't matter. It's not about me."  
  
Connick looked into her eyes as if seeing her for the first time. "It is though. More than you even know." He leaned in and kissed her. She pulled back quickly in shock. "What?" he asked embarrassed.  
  
"I can't Connick."  
  
"What do you mean, you can't?"  
  
"I just can't." She stood to leave.  
  
"It's Conlon, isn't it? He got to you first?"  
  
She didn't say anything but he could see it in her eyes. "Alright." He turned back towards the city.  
  
"Connick . . ,"  
  
"Boston, go."  
  
She looked at his back wanting to turn him around and explain everything to him. But she couldn't. She turned and left.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Boston threw herself on her bed. Her head was racing with unstructured thoughts. What the hell had just happened? Did Connick really kiss her? And why did she find herself yearning for it to happen again? Why did she suddenly have the urge to feel his arms around her. Why wasn't she busy thinking about Spot?  
  
She couldn't stay in the factory. She jumped up, scribbled a note to Josie and ran out into the night. It was only late autumn but snow was already snowing. She grabbed her hat from her back pocket and slid it on her head to protect from the snow. But by the time she had reached Kloppman's lodging house her hair was soaked anyway.  
  
"Boston, what are you doing here?" Mush was coming down the stairs as she walked in the door. "You're soaked, look at you."  
  
Boston slapped some coins on the front desk. "I need a bunk for the night," she said to Kloppman.  
  
The old man just nodded in response, shoving a pen and log book into her hand. She signed it quickly and walked towards the stairs.  
  
"Is Jack up there Mush?"  
  
"Yeah, he's at his bunk. Why?"  
  
"I need to talk to him." She tramped up the stairs, her boots squeaking in the wooden planks.  
  
"Jack!" Mush called up the stairs. "Boston's here!"  
  
Jack came to the door of the bunkroom almost immediately. "What's up?" he said noticing her dripping in the hallway.  
  
She pulled her hat off and shuffled her damp hair wildly. "I couldn't stay at the factory tonight. I already paid. I'm lodging here."  
  
"Why? What happened?"  
  
Boston peered behind Jacks back making sure no one was listening.  
  
"I just got into a sort of disagreement with Connick."  
  
Jacks eyes sharpened. "Did he hurt you?"  
  
"No! No, I just needed to get outa there."  
  
Jack surveyed her expression for a second. "Alright," he said, "let's get you a bunk."  
  
"Jack." She pulled his arm so that he turned back towards here. "Can I talk to you about something before we go inside?"  
  
"Yeah sure." He stepped towards her.  
  
"You said you didn't trust Connick. Why?"  
  
"Is this over the disagreement?"  
  
"Yeah, but it's also because I just have to know. I mean I've been living with the guy. If you know something about him that I don't, maybe I should know," she said in almost a whisper.  
  
"I knew Connick a while back when we were kids. We spent some time in the House of Refuge together. It was one of my first visits there. His too I guess. I was fixing to escape when he ratted me out. I got more refuge time. He got out the next day. There's just something about a guy who would rat out his friends for his own benefit."  
  
"Did you ever ask him why he ratted you out?"  
  
"No. Connick's only out for himself, that's why he did it."  
  
"Thanks Jack."  
  
"No problem." He slipped her into a headlock. "Now come on in and get a bunk." 


	9. The Points of War

Chapter 9- The Points of War  
  
"Jack!! The Bowery's against us." Racetrack came charging into the bunkroom. It was early still. The sun hadn't even risen.  
  
"Jack!" He tapped Jack's shoulder repeatedly. "Jack wake up."  
  
"What?" Jack said sitting up groggily.  
  
"The Bowery's against us. The Points joined up last night. Now the whole Bowery is against us," Race spat out.  
  
"Wait, how'd you find this out?" "I just came in from a Poker game." "All night?" "Yeah, oh it was a great game Jack. You shoulda been there. At one point I got this hand that . . ."  
  
"Race, the bowery." Boston got up from her bed.  
  
"Oh yeah right. I ran into Josie on the way here. He was coming to tell you." Race sat on his bunk calming down as he lit a cigar.  
  
"Where's Josie now?" Jack asked wiping sleep out of his eye.  
  
"Went home. There was no need for him to walk all the way up."  
  
Jack put his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his brown hair. "Alright. Everyone back to sleep," he ordered. "We'll deal with this in the morning."  
  
But Boston couldn't get back to sleep. Connick had joined up with the O'Reilly because of her. She knew it. And she also knew that if something horrible happened it would be all her fault, as if the blame for the initial start up of the fight wasn't on her shoulders already. Now Connick had sided against her. She stood from her bunk again and quietly slipped on her shoes.  
  
"Where're you going?" Jack sat up whispering.  
  
"Out." She put her hat on her head. "I gotta talk to Connick."  
  
"You think that's such a good idea?"  
  
"I dunno Jack." She stared at the floor. "Maybe I'll just go see Josie. I dunno. I just gotta get outa here." She twisted towards the door.  
  
"Lorna." Boston turned at the sound of her real name. "Be careful will ya?"  
  
A smile stretched across her thin lips. "I will Jack."  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Once in the street Boston didn't know where to go to first. She wanted to talk to Connick but was afraid of upsetting him. She contemplated warning Spot about Connick's almost betrayal-like decision or checking up on Josie. She decided on the latter. But this presented another problem- how to see Josie with out seeing Connick.  
  
The snow from the previous night had stuck, covering everything in a soft white blanket. Boston trekked through it slowly, not really wanting to reach the Points before sunrise. But she did anyway.  
  
There were boys assembled outside of the Factory. Boston recognized some of them but others were unknown to her. They were sitting on the stoop and leaning up against the wall with clubs, trying to intimidate.  
  
"You can't go in," a fierce unfamiliar boy said. "We've got strict orders from Connick and the O'Reilly."  
  
"I don't give a shit whose orders you got," Boston said, standing firm.  
  
From the corner of the stoop another boy emerged. It was Dell. He pulled Bostons arm and lead her towards the side. "Listen Connick's not in too good of a mood Boston," he said softly. "We can't let you in. He'll have our asses."  
  
There was desperation in his eyes.  
  
"What's goin on Dell?" Boston inquired.  
  
"The O'Reilly came this morning with a bunch of his Midtown boys. Said they had to strategize or something. They're really taking this whole feud thing serious. To be honest with you, I don't even know what it's about," Dell said leaning forward in confidence.  
  
"I don't think anyone really does."  
  
"But that's why I can't let you in."  
  
"Is Josie inside?"  
  
"Yeah. I think so."  
  
"Then that's why I came. Can you just send him out?"  
  
"I'll see what I can do." Dell turned and weaved his way back up the stairs in between lounging boys.  
  
When he returned Josie was with him.  
  
"What's goin on Jo?" Boston said in a frightened tone when he had reached her.  
  
"You tell me Boston. I came home last night and there was a note that you were leaving and then Connick's walking around all pissed off and some crazy Irish man shows up proclaiming that he's gonna beat some heads in." Josie's eyes darted with confusion.  
  
"I got in a fight with Connick." She was embarrassed to tell him the truth.  
  
"Over what?"  
  
"Something stupid. It doesn't matter. What's going on in there?"  
  
"Planning. I don't know what, but they've been planning all morning. I've never seen Connick like this Boston. What the hell did you do to him?"  
  
"Listen Jo, you gotta get outta here. Go stay with Jack or something, okay? Just get away from this place. It's not safe here."  
  
But it wasn't safe anywhere. Within the next two weeks, chaos reined over the New York newsies. Papers weren't a priority, fighting was. In the Bronx a battle had emerged between the Bronx and Queens. It raged for hours. Fists and clubs collided with skin all over the two burrows. By the end of the battle 51 newsies were seriously injured- 20 from the Bronx and 31 from Queens.  
  
Two days later the Bowery attacked the Upper East Side, spilling blood all over the cobblestone streets. Only 25 were injured this time, 20 of them East Side boys. The O'Reilly nicked another notch in his stick. An East Side boy was killed. The death made the feud more real than ever expected. Newspaper carts were turned over in the streets, bones broken, bodies bruised and cut and the fight raged on.  
  
The Lower East Side set the Brooklyn docks on fire again. SoHo stalked out loan newsies in the streets and fixed them so they couldn't walk. The Bowery joined up with Midtown and raided Queens, killing two more and injuring countless others.  
  
It seemed as if the feud would never end. The violence kept increasing as if unquenchable.  
  
Jack Kelly and his newsies had managed to stay out of the violence so far, but entrance was inevitable.  
  
"It's gotta stop Jack," Boston said. They were outside of the lodging house bunkroom on the fire escape. "It shoulda never started."  
  
"It was unstoppable," Jack said emotionlessly.  
  
"Three are dead Jack. There's no telling how many others are hurt. How long is it gonna go on?"  
  
"I have no idea. I've never seen anything like it."  
  
"We gotta do something."  
  
"Yeah. But what?" I don't know about you but I sure as hell don't fell like going one on one with the O'Reilly."  
  
Boston clenched her hands. They were white with frustration. "I dunno anything anymore Jack."  
  
There was yelling down in the streets. Skittery came running down the alleyway. "Jack! The Bowery!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.  
  
"Shit!" Jack murmured under his breath. "It couldn't be anyone else." He jumped down off the fire escape. "Boston, stay here," he called up.  
  
"No way," Boston began to climb down towards the street.  
  
"Stay. I don't want you to get hurt," he was ordering her with a stern voice but pleading with his eyes at the same time.  
  
"Jack I'm not gonna let my boys get hurt with out me." Her back was rigid in determination.  
  
"Be careful," Jack relented before running down the alley.  
  
The fight had already begun. It wasn't just newsies though. It was Connick's sweatshop kids from the factory as well. The Bowery out numbered Jack's newsies immensely.  
  
Boston jumped in immediately, prying some one off of Blink and kneeing him in the stomach so that he buckled over. Nodding in thanks, Blink stood and attacked his attacker. Boston whirled around confused by the hectic scene. Everything was happening so fast. She spotted Mush punching someone and Boots ducking before being hit a couple of feet away from her. Skittery was smacked with a club across his arm as Pie Eater dodged a fist covered with brass knuckles.  
  
"Boston," Jack called from behind her. She turned just in time to avoid being hit by some boy. His punch went over her head and she jabbed him hard in the stomach before hitting him in the face as hard as she could, splitting her knuckles open. She wanted to thank Jack for his warning but he was too busy fighting.  
  
She noticed Josie being held by one boy as another hit him in the gut. "Jo!" She yelled as she tried to run towards him but the crowd pushed her back. She struggled to get free and pushed her body against the crowd with all her might. But it was useless. The crowd was too strong. She watched as another punch found it's way to Josies body.  
  
"Leave him alone," she screamed at the top of his lungs trying to be heard over the sound of fighting. Someone behind her grabbed her by the arms and shoved her to the ground. She pulled herself to her feet before being whipped across the face with a club and falling to the ground again. She sat up and brushed blood from the corner of her mouth. She had to get to Josie. She stood again and bashed into the crowd with a new determination, breaking through and running towards Josie. She jumped on top of the boy hitting him but was easily flipped over. Her back hit the cobblestones with a smash, paralyzing her momentarily.  
  
"You dumb bitch," the boy said shoving his boot into her stomach. He grabbed her off the ground by the collar and raised his had to strike her.  
  
"Put her down."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said put her down you dumb shit and let him go too." It was Connick.  
  
The boy released her confused before running back into the battle. Connick had a pair of brass knuckles on his hands. He grabbed her arm roughly. "Josie, get outta here," he bellowed. He pulled Boston brusquely away from the crowd.  
  
"Let go of me." She pulled back. "You're hurting my arm!"  
  
"Just shut up would ya?" He pushed her into an alley up against a wall. "What the hell are you doing?" he yelled in her face.  
  
"What does it look like I'm going?" She pushed him away from her.  
  
"Get the hell outta here Boston! Get outta New York. Go back home."  
  
"No." She squinted her eyes in resentment.  
  
"This isn't your fight."  
  
"It isn't anyone's fight Connick. It's a bunch of bullshit over power."  
  
"You think I don't know that?" He slammed her up against the wall again. "You think I don't know that this is all about the power that the O'Reilly wants? You think I don't know that I'm being used in this shit?"  
  
"Then why are you in it?"  
  
He turned his back on her. "Because I have to be. Because this is all I know Boston and there's no way out."  
  
"So you joined against us cause you have to? Is that it?"  
  
He kicked a pile of trash furiously. "You don't understand anything Boston! You never will!"  
  
"I understand Connick! You did it cause your pissed off at me."  
  
Connick was about to say something but decided against it. He walked towards her, all anger gone from his face, so that he was just inches away. "Please. Get outta this Boston. I don't wanna see you get hurt."  
  
"Then don't hurt me. Get the Points out of this. You can stop this Connick."  
  
"No, I'm telling you, there's no way we can pull outta this."  
  
"Of course there's a way out Connick! There's a way out of everything."  
  
He shook his head violently. ""Point two: If you accept money to do a job, you do it. End of story."  
  
"What are you talking about? What money?"  
  
"Point three: If you join a gang stay loyal to that gang."  
  
"Connick what the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"The Points Boston. The 5 Points to the 5 Points."  
  
"So you're gonna keep this fight going cause of some stupid points?"  
  
"No, I'm gonna keep this thing going cause of what I live by." He bent his head forlornly. "I can't stop anything Boston." He went to go walk away but she pulled on his arm.  
  
"Connick don't do anything that you're gonna regret," she said sincerely.  
  
"I already have," he said as he walked away sadly.  
  
By the time Boston got back out into the street the fight was over. 


	10. Realizations

I'm so happy that a lot of people have liked the story! Here's another update. Hope you guys enjoy it.  
  
Chapter 10- Realizations  
  
The damage done by the Bowery hadn't been too bad. The fight was too small and far too short to amount to any real injuries on either side. But of course there were the usual cuts and bruises that always came about in gang related fights. Boston walked through the bunk room of the lodging house, past all of the newsies nursing their wounds, pulled the window open and sat on the fire escape just as she had done before the fight. She stared out towards the city thinking. This feud had to end. Where was the loyalty and devotion that had helped them win the strike of 1899? How would that loyalty be brought back?  
  
Her thoughts were disrupted by the sound of footsteps on metal behind her. Spot had come through the window and now sat slouched on the windowsill.  
  
"Hey," he said, bending over and kissing the top of her head.  
  
"Hi," she glanced at him and turned back towards the city.  
  
"Another cut, huh?" He motioned towards her cut lip.  
  
"It's nothing really," she said distantly.  
  
Spot stood up and sat down in front of her so that she couldn't see the city. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you completely healthy," he smirked. "Is that some new development you picked up in New York, or where you always beat up in Boston too?"  
  
Boston looked down at her cut knuckles. Her hair feel in her eyes. Spot brushed it back behind her ears, trying to find her eyes with his. "Are you sure you're okay?"  
  
"Yeah," she said quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine." But she still refused to look him in the eyes.  
  
He took her cut hands in his gently. "You should wrap these up or something. You gotta take care of 'em. How are you gonna play the piano with busted hands? Come on, I'll wrap 'em up inside." He stood and held his hand out for her to follow him. She didn't move.  
  
"You shouldn't be here Spot. It's not safe. You should stay in Brooklyn."  
  
"You think I'm afraid? I'm Spot Conlon!" he said mockingly. She didn't smile. He sat down in front of her again. "I came to see you, to get you. Why don't you come stay with me in Brooklyn? I'll set you up with a room and everything. Josie can come too."  
  
"It's not safe anywhere though, is it Spot?" She finally stared up into his blue eyes. Tears were filling up in hers.  
  
"Sure it is Boston. It's safe with me. I won't let anything happen to you."  
  
She smiled quickly. "Spot? Can you just hold me?"  
  
He pulled her into his arms as she cried.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Connick said something about money," Boston said over the table at Tibby's. She was sitting with Jack, Josie and Spot.  
  
"When was this?" Jack said, biting off a piece of bread.  
  
"During the fight. He stopped some guy from soaking Josie and me and pulled me over to talk. He said something about having to do things if you take money for them no matter what."  
  
"You think Connick's getting paid to fight?" Josie asked confused. "I can't believe that. That doesn't sound like Connick."  
  
"I know," Boston shook her head.  
  
"Sure it does. It sounds just like something Connick would do." Jack bit off another piece of bread.  
  
"I'm not so sure, Jacky-boy. You're just holding a grudge to the guy." Spot leaned back in his chair and sipped a glass of water.  
  
"Say he is taking money though," Josie leaned over the table, "who's he taking it from? The O'Reilly?"  
  
"Maybe," Jack shrugged.  
  
"The O'Reilly wouldn't have to pay Connick though. Connick's too indebted to him. If The O'Reilly asked him to do something, he'd do it, end of story," Boston explained.  
  
"Well who ever he's taking money from, we'll have to figure it out later." Spot stood up and placed his hat on his head. "I gotta get back to Brooklyn. You coming Boston?"  
  
"No. I think I'll stay here for tonight."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
She nodded. "Yeah."  
  
"Alright." He kissed the top of her head. "I'll come see you tomorrow." He turned and left.  
  
Jack and Josie stared at Boston confused.  
  
"What?" she said.  
  
"When did that happen? Jack asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"That?" He motioned to the door that Spot had just exited.  
  
"Shut up." She kicked him from under the table. 


	11. The Truth

Chapter 11- The Truth  
  
"Where ya heading off to?" Josie ran to catch up with Boston the next morning.  
  
"I gotta sort some things out," she answered.  
  
"Okay. Where?"  
  
"I gotta go see Connick and The O'Reilly."  
  
Josie laughed. "No really. Where are you goin?"  
  
Boston just looked at him.  
  
"No. No Boston you're not going."  
  
"It's fine Jo. I'll be alright." She quickened her pace to get away from him.  
  
"Well then I'm coming with you." He sped up.  
  
"No you're not. You're staying here."  
  
Josie pulled her arm to stop her. "You're my little sister, Boston. I'm not gonna let you go alone. I'm the one who's supposed to be looking out for you." His face was stern and stubborn.  
  
"Fine," she relented. "Just don't get us in trouble."  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
The first stop was at The O'Reilly's. They had to wait outside to be admitted but eventually were let in.  
  
"So Boston Collins decides to pay me a visit, and she brought her brother I see. What is it that I can do for you two?" The O'Reilly said, leaning back in his chair.  
  
"When Connick decide to side with you, did he say anything about what prompted his decision?" Boston pulled up the chair across from him.  
  
"Maybe. But it ain't my thing to rat people out."  
  
"What would it take for you tell me? I know it's something with money."  
  
The O'Reilly thought silently for a moment. "I could tell you, couldn't I? I mean who's gonna dare to take me on? I'm the bleeding The O'Reilly for God's sake."  
  
"Exactly," Boston smiled.  
  
"I mean, just look at this." He held up his stick. "Look at all the notches I have on it. You know that's for how many men I've killed?"  
  
"So I've heard."  
  
"Who's gonna take on a man that killed that many people?"  
  
"No one." Boston couldn't believe how conceited he had gotten.  
  
"Right, no one." He leaned forward in his chair. "I'll tell you what, if I tell you you gotta do something for me."  
  
"Name it," Boston said leaning forward as well so that they were inches away from each other.  
  
"You take a message to Kelly for me and I'll tell you."  
  
"Fine." She spit in her hand and held it out to him. He accepted it.  
  
"The money's from a gang in the points, The Bowery Boys. You ever heard of 'em?"  
  
"Yeah," Boston and Josie said in unison.  
  
"They offered Connick a bribe. They told him that if he joined up with me, got the fight good and going, they'd give him a pretty penny."  
  
"Why?" Josie stepped forward for the first time.  
  
The O'Reilly looked at him as if he had just noticed that he was in the room. "How should I know? All I know is that Connick got the money and I got me a fighting partner." The O'Reilly stood up. "Now you give Kelly this message. Tell him to meet me and my boys on the docks of Brooklyn night after tomorrow at 6:00. Tell him all's fair."  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
This time there was no one standing guard outside of Connick's factory. They walked straight into the factory and to Connicks room. But it was empty.  
  
"He's probably on the roof," Boston said before turning towards the way to the rooftop.  
  
"Wait, Boston. What exactly are we here for?" Josie stopped her.  
  
"To find out what's going on. You know, the money and stuff."  
  
He looked at her doubtful. "And you think that Connick's just gonna tell you?"  
  
"We can hope can't we?"  
  
Connick sat on the edge of the roof, his legs hanging off over the end.  
  
"You shouldn't sit by the edge. You can fall off," Boston said walking up behind him.  
  
"You shouldn't sneak up on people sitting at the edge of a roof," Connick replied not looking at her, "especially when you're not supposed to be here in the first place."  
  
"We gotta talk to you Connick." Josie stepped up  
  
"Yeah? What about?"  
  
Boston leaned on the rooftop chimney. "Tell us about the money."  
  
"What money?"  
  
"Don't play dumb Connick, you know what I'm talking about. Why'd you take the bribe?"  
  
Connick looked down at his dangling feet. "You know how easy it would be to just let go? To just drop off the edge? It'd all be over then wouldn't it?"  
  
Boston looked at him confused. "Connick what are you talking about?"  
  
He glanced up at her with sad eyes. "Hey Jo," He said noticing Josie standing just behind her. "How's it goin?"  
  
"I'm alright Connick," he said quietly.  
  
"Yeah." Connick turned back towards the city.  
  
"Why'd you do it Connick?" Boston pushed.  
  
He was silent for a moment. "Because I had to. Because if I didn't they'd kill me. You don't say no to the Bowery Boys, Boston."  
  
"But why'd they want you to take the bribe?" Josie asked.  
  
"I dunno. To get the cops off their backs? To get the cops involved in something else besides for their gang I guess. I don't ask questions when it comes to the Bowery Boys."  
  
"There's no way you can get out of it?" Boston sat down next to him. All of her anger had subsided.  
  
"Not if I wanna live," Connick shook his head.  
  
Boston stared at the ground in thought. Josie knew that look. She was planning something.  
  
"What are you thinking?" he said walking towards his sister.  
  
She held up her hand to silence him, still thinking. "What if you left the Points? What if you left New York all together?"  
  
"And go where? I'll have no place to go and no money to do so."  
  
"Go to Boston. Take my place as leader. Say that I sent you as my representative for as long as I'm gone and take all of my power."  
  
"Boston, wait, what are you saying?" Josie protested.  
  
Boston held up her hand again. "I'll give you the address to my lodging house. You go down there and take it over."  
  
Connick looked at her confused.  
  
"I'm handing you my power, Connick. Take over South Boston. You'll have more power than you ever did in the Points. You'll be safe. I assure you. You'll have more protection in Southy than you can ever imagine."  
  
"And what about you? What are you gonna do?" Connick wondered aloud.  
  
"I dunno. I'll stay here. I'll do something. I can always go back to Boston if I want. I just wont have power and I'm fine with that. I never really wanted it anyway."  
  
"And what about Josie?"  
  
"Josie can do whatever he wants to do. He's got a mind of his own." She looked at her brother. "He can stay here or go back with you, whatever he wants."  
  
Josie just stood there silent, digesting it all.  
  
"Connick, we have to end this. If you pull out and come with us we might have a chance." Boston stood up.  
  
"How's it gonna end though Boston?" Connick looked up into her face.  
  
"I think the O'Reilly wants to end it soon. He's talking about a meeting at the Brooklyn in two days. I think it's all going to go down then."  
  
"I dunno. I'll have to think about it Boston. It's a huge thing you're talking about, you know?" Connicks eyes were filled with doubt.  
  
Boston nodded. "I guess I'll see you on the docks though, regardless of whether you're fighting with us or against us." 


	12. Confusion

When I started writing this story I knew that I wanted Boston to end up with Spot, since I'm a Spot fan myself. But the more I wrote and the more I delved into the character of Connick, the more confused I got. I don't know if I want her to end up with Connick or Spot or what. So since I'm confused about the whole thing, I figured Boston would be too. So that's the inspiration behind this chapter. What do you guys think I should do? I'd appreciate your inputs on this here dilemma.  
  
Chapter 12: Confusion  
  
"So The O'Reilly wants to end this thing, huh?" Jack leaned back on his bunk the next day.  
  
"Yeah," Boston said. "Tomorrow night."  
  
Jack nodded silently. "There's no way we can get out of it is there, Lorna?"  
  
Boston shook her head.  
  
"Alright then. Tomorrow. Let the fellas know." Jack got up and walked out of the bunk room.  
  
Boston sat in the empty bunk room for a while. She could tell that Jack didn't want to fight, but he had no other choice. Jack didn't want to lead his friends into danger. Boston sat on her bed and ran her hands through her short hair. What would Da do? She thought to herself. Da! She had left the picture of him back in the factory under her bed in the small tin container that she had always kept it in. It was the only thing that she had left of her father. She couldn't just leave it to fade and collect dust in the 5 Points. She jumped up from her bed and ran out of the lodging house.  
  
It was freezing outside again. She dreaded having to make the long walk down towards the Bowery, but she shoved her hands in her pocket and trudged on.  
  
When she turned down Orange Street an hour later she was shocked to see a crowd of men fighting in the street. Cops were trying to break up the fight but their efforts were futile. Grown men were swinging clubs at each other and yelling at the top of their lungs. The cops were stuck in the middle of the action, trying to pry apart pairs of men and calm everything down. But the fight showed no signs of calming down.  
  
Boston had to get to the factory. She couldn't lose the only picture of her father that she had. She stayed close to the building walls and tried to make her way through the crowd. An arm pulled her fiercely into an alleyway and pushed her up against the wall. A hand covered her mouth so that she wouldn't yell. It was Connick. He took his hand away from her mouth.  
  
"What are you doing? You can't go down there! It gets even worse the farther you go." He looked out towards the street to see if they were safe. No one was coming.  
  
"I wanna pick up some of my stuff at the factory." Boston went to go leave but Connick pushed her back.  
  
"You can't," A lock of wavy black hair fell into his eyes. "I'm serious Boston. It's not a good idea."  
  
For the first time Boston noticed his face. His eyebrow was cut and blood ran down the side of his face. His lip was split on the left side of his mouth.  
  
"Jesus," Boston put her hand softly on his cheek. "What happened to you Connick?"  
  
"I tried . . . I tried Boston. I tried to get out but they wouldn't let me." He said quickly, turning his head away so that she couldn't see him.  
  
"What are you talking about?" She turned his face towards her gently. There were tears in his green eyes. "Slow down, tell me what happened. Who did this to you?"  
  
He shook his head back and forth. "I tried to get out of it. I told the Bowery Boys that I was through with it all. But they weren't having it."  
  
"Did they do this to you?" Tears found there way to Boston's eyes as well.  
  
He nodded. "They were gonna kill me Boston. I swear they were. I know it. But the Plug Uglies charged in and they had no time to deal with me."  
  
"Is that what this fight is? A gang fight?"  
  
He nodded again. "I tried Boston." Tears were running down his face. "I don't want this. I don't wanna live like this anymore. I can't get out. Not just outta this fight but outta the Points, outta this life."  
  
Boston didn't know what to say to him. He was breaking down in front of her. She had such an urge to just take him in her arms.  
  
"You gotta get out of this Boston. You gotta leave New York." His face was just inches away from hers.  
  
Boston put her hand on the side of his face. "Calm down Connick. It'll be all right," she whispered.  
  
"But it won't," he shook his head again. "Boston please, go home." He put his hand on the side of her face too. "Please," he sobbed. "I can't see you get hurt. I can't watch your life turn out like mine." He kissed her once as tears from his eyes mixed with the tears that were running down her cheek. He pulled away and looked into her eyes and then leaned in and softly kissed her again. She didn't fight it this time. "Go," he whispered when he pulled away again.  
  
Boston was speechless. Her mind was reeling.  
  
"What about you? What are you gonna do?"  
  
"It doesn't matter," he said walking away.  
  
"It does Connick," she pulled him back by the arm.  
  
"I'll be fine," he smiled falsely.  
  
"Connick. . ."  
  
"You got Spot to get back to. Better start heading back. It'll be dark soon." There were still tears in his eyes.  
  
Boston closed her eyes. It hurt to hear him say that. But why? Why did she care? Or maybe it was the fact that she didn't care. She was so confused. She wanted to kiss Connick again, but images of Spot flashed in front of her eyes. "Yeah," she said through clenched teeth.  
  
He gave a melancholy smile and walked down the alley. She watched him go. She wanted to run to him but she didn't. She stood there and watched him until he was out of sight.  
  
* * *  
* * *  
* * *  
* *  
  
The walk back home was even worse than before. Boston's head was swarming with all sorts of thoughts. Connick had kissed her again and she had kissed him back, in fact she hadn't wanted to stop kissing him. But she had Spot. Did she want Spot or did she want Connick? What was wrong with her? She couldn't figure out what to do. Her relationship with Spot was going smoothly. Why then could she not stop thinking about Connick? Why did she keep reliving their kiss in her mind?  
  
"Damn it!" She mumbled to herself. 


	13. Disorder and Disarray

Chapter 13: Disorder and Disarray  
  
"Listen up! Hey! Listen up!" Jack stood on a crate looking down on a crowd of motley newsies who were all talking and fumbling around aimlessly on the Brooklyn docks . The night of the fight had finally arrived. "Hey, are you guys gonna shut up or do I have to soak ya?" he yelled.  
  
A bunch of newsboys stopped talking but most still continued their conversations. Spot jumped up on the crate. "Jacky boy's got something to say. So listen up!" His voice was stern and demanded attention. Everyone quieted down.  
  
"Thanks Spot," Jack slapped him on the back. "Alright. You know why we're here and I'm not gonna lie to you. This thing is gonna be hard. It's gonna be brutal, but we gotta stick it out because. . . well because we really don't have an option, now do we?" The crowd mumbled sadly. "So anyway, the O'Reilly said that anything goes, and you know what that means. They'll be packing clubs and chains and brass knuckles and all that fun stuff. So we gotta step it up and play it to their level. Anything goes." The crowd was silent. No one wanted to actually harm people. They were happy to stick to just fighting with fists, not weapons. "So I guess that's it then. Watch out for yourselves and watch out for others. Spot, you got anything else to add?"  
  
Spot was still standing on the crate. "Just end this guys. Do what you gotta do."  
  
"Boston?" Jack nodded to her.  
  
She didn't know what to say. She had no words of encouragement for this. "Watch out for Connick and his boys. They might be on our side."  
  
"Yeah, that's right," Jack took over. "The Points might be fighting with us so watch and see if they're gunning for us or Midtown. We don't wanna have to hurt more people than we have to."  
  
Boston looked down at the sea of newsies and ran her hands through her hair. They were all so young but had seen so much. What a life for young boys. So much violence and suffering.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
It started faster than anyone imagined. The O'Reilly and his army of newsboys arrived and immediately broke out into riotous action. Chaos was everywhere, as if in a Civil War battle. Boys charged at each other with makeshift weapons, attacking and aiming to impair. Boston could hardly take it all in. Her head was spinning with movement and yells.  
  
"Boston, don't just stand there," Josie came up from behind her snapping her out of her momentary laps. He charged into the fight with a stick in his hand and determination on his face. Boston looked for any sing of Connick and his boys but couldn't find any. "Come on Connick, come on," she mumbled to herself.  
  
Someone attacked her from the side, knocking her over onto her hip. She pulled herself up only to be caught in the stomach with a hard fist. She balled over and was punched in the jaw. Jack came out of nowhere and slammed his fist into the attackers face before head butting him and sending him to the floor in a heap.  
  
"Do I always have to save your ass?" he smirked.  
  
"I got knocked off guard, but thanks Cowboy," she nodded at him and watched him run back into the mess of newsboys.  
  
Boston steadied herself. She noticed Racetrack being clobbered by 3 boys just feet away. She charged at them and punched one in the head. The element of surprise was a huge advantage. The boy fell to the floor but another one of Race's assailants instantly attacked her in revenge. He threw a punch at her that she dodged. This distraction provided Race with the time he needed to regain control. He jammed his fist into one of his attackers gut and tackled him to the ground before punching him in the face repeatedly. Meanwhile, Boston had been overtaken by her challenger. She lay on the floor struggling to get free from her attackers grasps. Race sprang up and pulled him off of her and shoved him forcibly away before offering his hand to Boston.  
  
" Thanks," she said accepting it and pulling herself to her feet.  
  
"You saved my back. I saved yours." He replied simply and turned away.  
  
There was a loud commotion. Boston turned her head looking for it's origin.  
  
"The Points!" She heard Mush yell out The 5 Points had arrived on the scene, forging into battle quickly and forcefully.  
  
"Josie! Josie! Connick's here!" Boston called to her brother just feet away. He was in the mists of swinging a stick at a Midtown boy.  
  
"That's great Boston," he replied after hitting the boy and running to her side. "But whose side are they on?"  
  
Boston couldn't tell. There was too much going on, too much confusion. "I dunno." Everything was happening so fast.  
  
Josie swung his stick at someone else. "Try to find out, would ya? I'm kinda busy."  
  
Boston ran towards a pile of crates and quickly climbed up them while trying to keep her eyes on Connick the entire time. "Who's he fighting?" she said to herself.  
  
Connick was making his way through the crowd trying to get somewhere. He punched people out of his way with a pair of brass knuckles. "Who's he going for?" Boston found herself saying out loud again. Her eyes darted around quickly trying to find Connick's target. "No," she mumbled. "Shit. No, Connick." He was making his way directly towards The O' Reilly who was bashing his huge stick into some poor defenseless boys skull.  
  
She jumped down from the crates. "Jo! Jo!" She pulled at her brother.  
  
"What!?" He yelled annoyed.  
  
"Connick's on our side."  
  
"Good." He went to go back to fighting.  
  
"No, Jo," she pulled his arm. "He's going after the O' Reilly."  
  
Josie's face dropped. "Come on then. Show me where he is."  
  
Together, they tried to run through the crowd, dodging combatant newsies. Slowly but surely they made their way towards Connick and the O'Reilly. But it was too late, the two were already engaged in conversation.  
  
"Connick, me boy. I was beginning to think that you weren't going to show." The O'Reilly placed his stick on his shoulder and smiled from ear to ear.  
  
"Yeah well I'm here. But things have changed."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Connick didn't say anything. He just charged at The O'Reilly, slamming his shoulder into the Irish man's torso. They both fell to the ground. The O'Reilly jumped on top of Connick.  
  
"What do you think you're doing? Are you turning on me?" he screamed in Connick's face. "I made you. You'd be dead with out me you little shit!" His face was turning red with rage as spit flew out of his mouth with each word. He grabbed Connick's collar and pulled him close to his face. "You're nothing with out me." He slammed Connick's head back down towards the cobblestoned street. Connick tried to wriggle free. "I'll show you you traitor!" He punched Connick across the jaw knocking his face against the ground. Blood rushed from Connick's mouth as he kneed the O'Reilly in the stomach and slid out from underneath him.  
  
Connick stumbled to his feet as the O'Reilly stood and picked up his stick.  
  
"Connick! No!" Boston yelled, trudging forward. Bowie, the newsie who had first introduced her to The O'Reilly, grabbed her arms and held her back. Another one of The O'Reilly's men grabbed Josie.  
  
Connick didn't take his eyes from The O'Reilly's face. He wiped blood from the corner of his mouth and stared hard into The O'Reilly's eyes. "What are you waiting for then Michael?"  
  
The O'Reilly's eyes flashed with rage. "I told you never to say me name in public."  
  
Connick just shrugged.  
  
The O'Reilly forged at him with flailing fists. One of his punches managed to hit Connick in the shoulder but he was able to dodge the rest and rebound on the O'Reilly, punching him directly in the eye socket with his right fist and then in the gut with his left. The O'Reilly fell back a few steps but quickly regained his footing. He raised his stick and swung it at Connick, missing by just a few inches.  
  
Boston couldn't stand to watch any longer. "Stop it!" she screamed, struggling to get free, but she was no match for Bowie, who was holding her.  
  
The O'Reilly finally connected with his stick, smashing it into Connick's ribs causing him to double over. Another swoop of the stick found its way to Connicks back. He stumbled as a final swing hit the back of his head.  
  
"No!" Boston screamed as Connick fell to the floor in a heap. "Leave him alone!"  
  
"Shut up," Bowie pulled his knife out to intimidate Boston. "Or I'll cut you."  
  
The O'Reilly glanced at Boston and smiled widely. He raised his stick over Connick's skull to finish the job. Out of nowhere Jack tackled The O'Reilly to the ground and pummeled his face with flying fists. Blood spurted out of the O'Reilly's mouth as Jack's fists connected with his jaw repeatedly. The O'Reilly's eyes shut and his head fell to the side as he slipped into unconsciousness. Jack stood and looked at his hands that were covered with blood. He turned to go and help Boston.  
  
"Jack! Behind you," Boston yelled.  
  
The O'Reilly was up and on his feet yet again, charging full speed at Jack. Jack jumped out of the way as The O'Reilly ran head on into Boston. He fell onto her and then slowly took a step back with an open mouth. His hand was grasping his side. He looked down at his hand with horror. It was crimson red. He was silent as he stumbled back.  
  
Bowie released Boston alarmed. He glanced down at the long knife in his hand. It was covered in the same awful red hue as The O'Reilly's hand.  
  
The O'Reilly fell to his knees and looked pitifully at Bowie.  
  
"I didn't mean it boss. It was an accident."  
  
The O'Reilly answered with a gurgle of blood that trickled over his lip and down his chin. He fell to his side as Bowie ran to him.  
  
"I'm so sorry boss," he pleaded. "Just you hold on. I'll get help. Hold on."  
  
The O'Reilly leaned his head back.  
  
"Boss no. Just you hang in there." The O'Reilly's head fell to the side as he took his last look at the world before his eyes stopped blinking an his chest grew still.  
  
Jack stepped towards Boston. "Guess you saved my ass this time huh? Are you okay? You hurt?"  
  
"No, No I'm fine. But Connick. . ." She ran towards him and knelled beside him. She turned over his body. "Come on Connick . . ." He was still breathing. 


	14. The Calm After the Storm

Chapter 14: The Calm after the Storm  
  
Boston took one last look at the room that her and Josie had shared at the factory in the 5 Points. She gathered what little belongings she had and took a deep breath.  
  
"You leaving now?" Connick appeared in the door. His face was cut up an bruised and his hands were bandaged.  
  
"Yeah." Boston turned towards him. "Time to head on down to Kloppman's, get myself adjusted there."  
  
"Right, the new home," Connick nodded.  
  
"For the time being. Who knows, ya know? It's a new beginning. I can't try to hide from the past anymore."  
  
"Yeah. What about Spot though?"  
  
"He understood that I needed some time to just be with myself. Figure some stuff out. He was a bit upset, more mad than upset really but I need this break. "  
  
"So you two are through?"  
  
She nodded. "For now."  
  
"Too bad I'm leaving then huh? We coulda had something." Connick winked jokingly.  
  
"Yeah, it is," Boston replied in all seriousness.  
  
There was silence for a moment.  
  
"Thanks Connick," Boston broke the quiet.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For everything. For giving me a place to stay. For helping us win the fight and stop the stupid feud that had been going on." She shook her head not knowing what to say. "Just for always being there. When I needed you , ya know?"  
  
Connick smiled. "Yeah."  
  
"So when are you leaving?"  
  
"I leave for Boston in a couple of days. It'll be a fresh start for me too. I kinda need that."  
  
"Well good luck with Southy. I'm sure you'll be a fine leader. You were always good at leading the Points."  
  
"Lets hope so."  
  
They looked at each other for a moment.  
  
"I don't want you to leave," Boston let out reluctantly.  
  
"Now you say that," Connick laughed. "If only you said that weeks ago."  
  
"If only you would've danced with me when I asked you to." Boston smiled.  
  
"We all have our regrets," Connick said sadly.  
  
Boston took a deep breath. "So you take care of yourself Connick." She stretched out her arms and embraced him in a hug. "I mean it."  
  
"Yeah." He kissed the top of her head. "Let's not get all sappy though my little Boston girl. I'll see you around. It's not goodbye forever. Who knows, I might be back down in the Points in two weeks after all this blows over."  
  
Boston shook her head again. "Always the tough guy Connick."  
  
"Yeah well, what do you want me to do cry? You've already seen that."  
  
She smiled at him and took a step towards the door.  
  
"Hey Boston," Connick said.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"You're gonna have to change your name now aren't you? Since you're not going to be leading Southy huh?"  
  
"Yeah," she laughed. "I guess I am."  
  
"So who should I ask for if I wanna find you?"  
  
"Lorna." She smiled as she said her name before turning and walking out of the factory. Josie was waiting for her at the door.  
  
The End  
  
So that's the end. I hope you guys liked it. I kind of took a cop out with Spot. I didn't know how to have Boston break up with him so I just skipped it. Sorry there wasn't more Spot in it. I know a bunch of people asked for more Spot but it didn't fit into the story. I hope to make a sequel eventually. I'm going back up to school in a couple of days though and I'll be bogged down with work so the sequel might take a long time. 


End file.
